Birthright
by Seshat The Scribe
Summary: Harry Potter was forced to leave behind his family and friends and the place he called home. What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined. What he found would help him win a war.
1. Part I : Hard to Say Goodbye

A/N: This is my new project I've been working on for a while. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Warnings: AU after GoF. Pairing: Harry/Sally-Anne. This fic has many parts and any romance involved won't come along until much later in the story.

Rated: M for violence, language, adult content

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

Summary: With the Ministry of Magic against him and Voldemort seeking his death, Harry Potter knew his only hope was to leave everything he had come to love and seek sanctuary in another land.

What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined.

What he found would help him win a war.

* * *

**1**

**Hard To Say Goodbye**

* * *

_1_

_Fear of A Name_

Darkness.

A Heart raced, thumping wildly in his chest, with only a familiar wand clutched in his grip.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

A blinding flash of green light pierced through the shadows and it in that instant all stilled. His heart frozen in terror.

Death.

The young man thrashed about the bed until he was tangled within the dark blue coverlet. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, neck and bare upper torso ignoring the cool summer air barely making its way through the cracked window. Legs, strong, kicked at nothing as hands clenched into fists, ripping the fitted sheet away in an attempt to fight the demons that plagued him.

"No," he murmured, his head pushing into the flat pillow, and then he reached up and shoved it away. "No, _please_, no!" As his desperation grew, a sob of anguish filled the silence of the small room.

Curtains were drawn against the morning light, but the determined sun still managed to permeate the bedroom, much as the nightmarish shadows crept into the teen's defenseless sleeping mind. A beam of sunshine bounced gaily off the full length mirror hanging on the open closet door and onto the clothes piled on the floor that he had pulled off mere hours ago, before crawling bare of all but his underwear into bed.

The last thing he had wanted was something on his skin. It had felt as if something were crawling beneath it. Down his spine, waiting to reach out and clasp him within its grasp. Nausea, dizziness, insomnia were followed by night terrors when he did manage to doze off. He was losing weight due to lack of appetite, and the occasional tremors in his hands and limbs were remnants of dark magic. It had been the same for more than a month with no resolution in sight.

After the first week, he had taken one look at his pale gaunt face, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the body that was being pared down to sinewy muscle and bone and sent a letter off to his friends. Terrified. Frantic for some explanation.

Only to be warned against sending out post.

Lectured on being careful. Cautioned to stay out of trouble. No answers, no help. Nothing.

He would have to endure alone just as he always had.

Each week the symptoms continued, the dreams of death and darkness and each day he felt more and more alone with the sensation of bone chilling fear ever creeping up behind him.

"NO!" he shouted, jerking awake, shaking violently. Wide, panic filled eyes, the brightest of green, almost glowing with their intensity, scanned the cluttered room, looking, searching for something, but the image slithered out of his mind, sinister and intangible.

The wave of nausea hit him hard. He barely made it across the small room to the waste basket before emptying the contents of his stomach. Pain cramped deep within him like a vise someone was squeezing around his internal organs. The cold chicken soup and water that he barely managed to choke down the evening before came up and left him dry heaving until the episode passed.

Feeling his head swim, he reached for the glass of water that sat on his tray, taking only a few precious sips to rinse his mouth and spit out. An old t-shirt wiped sweat and stink from his body. The ritual was painfully familiar. Nightmare. Vomit. Pray for relief.

The cold door was soothing against the heat that raged in his body as he slid down. Heavy limbs flopped to the floor afterwards and he could do nothing but lay there. Dark hair laid sweat soaked and plastered to his head. His chest rose and fell in a shallow race as he tried to drag oxygen into his lungs.

Fatigue swam through his head. A month of existing on troubled sleep each night, malnutrition and the feeling that his life was going to drastically change was finally taking its toll. Gradually, the sweat dried, his breathing slowed and he felt as if he might be able to live for one more day.

Memories of the faces in his nightmares, the death that haunted him floated through his mind.

"I'm sorry," he murmured in a voice that was childlike despite its growing maturity, expressing a different kind of pain. Grief and sorrow. Tears, poured from stricken eyes onto his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over as if saying the words would allow him some absolution.

* * *

_2_

_In My Mother's Name_

The summer Harry James Potter turned fifteen, was the year War began in the Wizarding world. It was a War that had been fought many times before, battles of good verses evil that had their beginnings in simple bigotry. The belief that a witch or wizard of pure blood was greater than those of muggle birth was taught from the cradle and nurtured until the grave. It began centuries before, but was perhaps best known in a clash between two founders of a prestigious school, Gryffindor and Slytherin, once friends only to become enemies.

Slytherin who was wary of the growing muggle discontent, wished to protect the precious magical children who were being persecuted and even out right murdered by those who feared their kind. Slytherin who wished to protect those who were born to magic and cast out those who had ties to the very people who threatened their world.

It was simple for him. Let those of muggle birth stay in their world.

Gryffindor who felt all magical children deserved a right to the gifts they had been granted. Gryffindor who wished to protect and educate them all so they could become productive members of their society. He wasn't ignorant of the threat of muggles but neither was he prejudiced against their magical children of muggle birth.

It was simple for him. All those, whether pure-blooded or muggle-born, who were gifted with magic were entitled to a place in their world.

Over the centuries, of death and strife and pain, the division grew. Slytherin's purpose taken up by many Dark Lords who thought it best to murder the muggle-borns and even muggles if necessary, for they were beneath those gifted with magic and deserved nothing less than to be subjugated to their will. Gryffindor's purpose, upheld as noble and right, by those considered the Light of the Wizarding world.

Yet, the very power they held in such esteem became a corruptible force in magical society. Bigotry endured on each side. Those in power created laws to subjugate any who was considered less than pure of blood. Muggles grew to be considered almost as oddities. Muggle-borns left to endure a prejudice that forced them to chose between remaining in the Wizarding world trying to adapt and accepting a life of second best or returning to the world of their birth and leaving magic behind as a bit of fantasy that had touched their lives for a few short years.

For Harry Potter, half-blood wizard child born of the honorable pureblood family of Potter and a powerful and intelligent muggle-born witch, his life had been forged in the very War that would soon overwhelm the Wizarding World again spilling the blood of all children born of magic. At a little over one year in age, he had been proclaimed by the Wizarding World, as the Boy-Who-Lived, having defeated the dark Wizard known by the moniker of Lord Voldemort. And for over thirteen years, there was calm.

"Blind fools."

Frustrated, the newly turned fifteen year-old crushed the newspaper he had been reading into a tight ball, not caring that his Uncle Vernon would probably be upset when he discovered the destroyed publication. It didn't matter that the paper was at least two days old nor that he had pulled it from the trash that had been tossed out the evening before. Vernon Dursley was a selfish bastard who wished nothing but ill will on the nephew he had been forced to take in all those years ago after the death of his parents.

Unless the reader knew what to look for, the sudden spurt of violence in the media was nothing out of the ordinary. During the summer months it wasn't uncommon for there to be an increase in the number of violent crimes committed. A family murdered by a father who then committed suicide. An explosion that destroyed an entire section of a city business district. A rise in the number of fires, especially in residential areas. They could all be reasoned away by normal muggle behavior. There were no inexplicable happenings. No sightings of a strange green mark in the sky. Nothing that would gain the attention of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry knew otherwise.

One thing was certain, Voldemort had an agenda. One that included remaining out of sight until he was ready for the Wizarding world to be aware of his presence. The murdered families? Homes of muggle-borns who certainly wouldn't be missed by a Ministry that didn't much care for them anyway. Explosions in the city? Businesses that were owned and operated by muggle-borns or half-bloods who had returned to the muggle world. An increase in fires? What better way to destroy evidence, than leaving none?

The Ministry of Magic chose to ignore the fact that Voldemort was alive and had taken the stance that Harry was nothing more than a liar, who desperately needed the attention of the Wizarding world even at the cost of inciting hysteria by proclaiming the return of the vilest Dark Lord of all time. The campaign to discredit him was dragged through the already fickle media, who were happy to print insidious articles reviling him in one sentence and maligning him in the next.

The Wizarding world wanted peace. Their fears from the war, fear of even speaking Voldemort's name, were so strong that they preferred to believe lies of the boy they had held in esteem mere months before. They were common folk, people whose lives were rarely affected by the decrees of the Ministry and therefore could put their faith in the government they had elected to protect them.

He might have been better equipped to handle all of this if his friends had written to him, given him some inclination that something was being done about Voldemort. Instead he was sequestered here on Privet Drive, bound by blood wards and forced to live with his ignorance and the situation didn't appear to be changing any time soon.

"BOY!"

The harsh bellow was followed by a fist pounding on his bedroom door. Only one ham-fisted hand could make so much noise. It belonged to the man who had made most of his life a living hell on earth. He had as much contempt for Vernon Dursley as he had for Voldemort. There wasn't much of a difference between the two in his opinion.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he called out, preferring to keep the man on the other side of the door. Yes, they locked him into this tiny hot room but those locks also effectively kept them locked away from _him_. He would tolerate the heat and cramped space, the crappy meals passed through the cat flap on the door, if it kept the Dursley family away.

"Get dressed, now! You have chores to finish before the end of the day!"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled. _You arse_, he finished in his head.

And of course he couldn't forget the list of chores he was obligated to complete each day to earn his keep since he was such a burden on the family. The day old bread and fruit for breakfast, a dry sandwich of cheese and warm water for lunch and the sparse piece of meat and handful of vegetables he received for dinner were enough to break their family budget. And of course that was only on days they felt he deserved food. Most times he was given cold tinned soup for all of his meals and expected to be appreciative of their generosity.

He stood and went to gather some clothes as he listened to the locks on his door being unfastened. Without any warning the door was flung open and he was greeted with the sight of his morbidly obese Uncle who was clenching a piece of paper.

"I expect these to all be completed by the time I get home tonight. I'm taking your Aunt and Dudley out to dinner and you'll be back inside where you can cause no trouble. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

If only Snape could see him now. He would love to see Harry Potter so subservient, despite the fact that Snape believed he was a spoiled brat who had his every whim catered to. Harry had learned years ago just to nod his head and agree, if only to move Vernon along more quickly. If he tried to rebel, he was given the business end of Vernon's belt and then locked away with no food until the bruising faded. Vernon wasn't stupid, there were never any broken bones or blood spilled, but the man had learned over the years how to lay a belt across the skin that would cause the worse amount of pain with the least amount of scaring.

The two had come to an unvoiced agreement over the years. Harry wasn't to be seen or heard unless absolutely necessary and do any chores he was given without complaint. If these two simple rules were obeyed, Vernon had no reason to beat the shit out of him. There were days those rules were followed and there were days when Vernon took pride in correcting the miscreant that he was forced to house.

Harry took the paper that was extended to him, Vernon jerking his hand away as if he didn't want the air near his nephew's hand to touch him. It wasn't a ridiculous list, including normal household chores that most teens are given. It was the mere fact that he was expected to do all of them, when the list was probably better suited to be divided between the entire family.

"Uncle Vernon?"

"What do you want, boy! Be quick about it, I'm running late for work."

"While you are all gone to dinner, may I get my trunk from the cupboard downstairs so I can do my summer homework?"

The very idea of magic always had the power to send his uncle into a rage. The man bristled with rage. Harry didn't need to look down to know the man had clenched his fists in warning. "I told you, I didn't want any of that nonsense in my house!"

"If I don't finish it, the teachers will complain and wonder why I spent the entire summer without finishing my work."

He left unsaid that they might come back here to inquire but it was understood nevertheless. The last thing the Dursley family wanted was anyone from the Wizarding world coming to Privet drive to check up on this household. Then it might be discovered that the Dursley family wasn't as _'normal'_ as they tried so desperately to be.

"Fine, but you had better finish by the time we get home because that _thing_ goes right back into the closet. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

The man sneered as if he smelled something foul, "Fine. Now get downstairs and get started on your chores."

And so began his day, the nightmares and horrors temporarily cast aside leaving him with the illusion of peace.

He spent the day trying to get to the end of the list of chores he had been given. The dishes from breakfast were washed, dried and put away after he ate his allotted toast, slice of tomato, fried egg and swallow of milk. At the near bounty he had almost looked askance at his Aunt, and then he remembered the chore list and understood. They couldn't work him like a slave if he was starving. After days with little of nothing to eat, the food set like heavy lead on his stomach but he wasn't going to complain.

He scrubbed out the filthy bathrooms, which made him wonder if he lived with a pack of dogs that preferred to urinate on the floor rather than in the toilet. With the little work Dudley and Vernon managed each day, he had to wonder how the bloody hell they managed to get the tub so filthy. The bathrooms were always the worst and he was required to clean them at least five times a week. He often wondered how his Aunt managed during the months he was at school or if they were purposefully this revolting because he was the one doing the cleaning.

He mopped floors, leaving the kitchen for last. That was a lesson he learned before he turned nine, as Dudley liked to track mud through the house when he realized who was doing the cleaning and that Harry would get in trouble if anyone saw the filthy tracks.

Laundry was washed, bed linen and towels today, as his Aunt Petunia was an anal retentive cow about using the same linen more than once. The living room was dusted and vaccumed and the rest of the house set to rights by lunch time.

Here he was gifted with a scoop of chicken salad on a thrice day old roll, an apple that looked to have seen better times and a glass of water. At least it was cooling, for which he was grateful because it satisfied his thirst. He could see the remains of Dudley's lunch still on the table across from him. His cousin had gone through four packets of crisps, two cans of soda, and entire packet of ginger biscuits. That's not to discount what wasn't left on the table. He had watched his Aunt prepare the chicken salad this morning as he cleaned the dishes, so it was a good bet that Dudley had plowed through all of it.

He looked up from the last of his water to find her standing over him. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"When you're done, tidy the kitchen. I'm sure Vernon told you we're going out tonight, so you won't need to help with dinner. There is a bit of the steak and kidney pie from yesterday in the refrigerator. You may have that and a glass of milk for supper."

Again, he wanted to know why she was being so gracious but was smart enough not to ask. "Yes, ma'am."

"I went to the nursery this morning and found some tree peonies. It's a bit late in the season but I think they will fit nicely. I marked off a spot in the garden where you'll plant them. And be careful, they will flower poorly if you handle them too roughly."

And here was the reason why she was being so nice.

"You'll get started when you finish cleaning and organizing the garage. I expect the trash to be double bagged. I don't want any mess because you're too lazy to do it right the first time. After you finish the garden, you'll finish the list of chores your uncle gave you or you can forget about dinner."

After cleaning the garage, he only had to store the winter wardrobe boxes in the basement. It figured they were too lazy to do it themselves and waited until he returned from school to have him launder the clothes and pack them away. There was so much junk down in the basement, he didn't know how they kept track of it or even bothered to keep it. Every fall, Vernon went out and bought Dudley new things anyway. They were too selfish to consider giving the things away to families less fortunate.

With his outdoor chores complete, he still had two hours before his uncle returned home. There wouldn't be much time later and he didn't want to get dirt everywhere and be forced to clean up again, so he quickly rushed through a lukewarm shower and changed into a pair of ragged denims and a t-shirt. His aunt took one look at him and sneered before returning to her room to dress for the family's evening out.

It took him almost ninety minutes before he had taken all the boxes down and arranged them neatly in the basement. Tired, he made two last trips from his bedroom. The first was to the kitchen to heat up his dinner and bring it upstairs and the second to retrieve his trunk from the cupboard that his Uncle had unlocked before leaving for work. No one bothered to check to see if he was okay. No one even bothered to tell him they were leaving, all he heard was the sound of the front door slamming and eventually the car driving away.

The house was quiet, his stomach was filled and he might actually get some work done.

He was well into reading through the chapters for his Charms assignment when a burst of fire announced the unexpected presence of a wizard in his bedroom. Startled, he jumped from his chair, wand in hand, only to stop and gawk.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

The Headmaster was dressed in his usual lurid shaded robes, these were an awful combination of puce and lime. Fawkes sat contentedly on his shoulder, which explained the fiery entrance. In fact, the phoenix looked rather pleased with having startled him if Harry wasn't mistaken.

"Good evening, my boy. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, I'm just working on my summer assignments." He explained while gesturing to the parchment spread across his desk.

A pleased smile touched Dumbledore's mouth and he nodded in appreciation. "I'm sure Ms. Granger will be pleased. She's been rather stern with Mr. Weasley these past weeks about completing his own course work."

"They're together? I think I knew that, from the letters they sent. Where are they?"

"Perhaps we should sit first?" Dumbledore offered, though his genial smile had turned quite serious now.

"Sorry." He glanced around his bedroom, seeing no where but his desk for the Headmaster to sit and feeling more than a bit ashamed at the circumstances his relatives forced him to endure. Seeing his predicament, Dumbledore quickly conjured his own seat, a large plush chair that was just as gaudy as the robes he wore. Fawkes left his shoulder and settled on his window sill so he could observe their meeting.

Harry accepted the offer of tea, and Dumbledore summoned a service. They shared a perfect cup of Earl Grey. His was a touch of sweet with a healthy dollop of milk and the professor's with lemon and given four cubes of sugar. He barely held back a grimace at the thought of drinking something so sugary.

"There are several things we need to discuss Harry, and I'm sure you have many questions of your own."

Of course he had questions. He wanted to know everything! What was happening with Voldemort? What was being done to stop him. Most of all, he needed to know what was happening with his friends and why they hadn't written more than those stupid letters telling him not to worry and to behave since the summer began.

"I believe your first question concerns Voldemort?"

"Yes Professor. I've been watching the reports on the television when I could and reading the newspapers. They've been attacking, the Death Eaters, I just know it but they're doing it secretly. The Daily Prophet isn't reporting any of the muggle-born murders as anything more than accidents."

"It is my belief that the night of Voldemort's resurrection, not all went according to his plans. You stated that after he summoned his followers, his intentions were to put an end to the idea of Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived. Fortunately for the Wizarding World, you managed to foil Voldemort's plans. So rather than openly attack, he has begun to operate covertly."

"What happens now?"

"Well, Minister Fudge is unwittingly giving Voldemort the time he needs to regroup and further his aims. By denying Voldemort's return and refusing to implement measures to prepare our world for what is sure to be a return to war, Cornelius gives Voldemort the opportunity to strengthen his forces and make numerous strategically planned assaults."

No! Why would someone be so purposefully blind? If Voldemort had the time to get strong, then it would be next to impossible to stop him. Didn't they learn that from the first war? "What are we going to do to stop him? There has to be a way of showing everyone he's back!"

"Calm yourself, Harry. You shall be doing nothing for the moment."

"What? But I've already faced him, once! I know-"

"I'm not denying that you have genuine desire to help. What you must understand is that now is not the time. You are not ready."

Fine, he could accept that. After their confrontation in the graveyard, he knew he wasn't ready to face Voldemort again. He might not be as lucky as he was the last time. "Then I should train right? You'll be training me. Voldemort is going to come after me again and with training-"

A wizened hand stopped his hurried words, "No."

"But, Professor!"

"No Harry." Dumbledore set his cup of tea aside and pinned him under a powerful stare that was impossible to break. "Now you must listen to me. You say you're ready but a mature well-learned wizard knows when to take action and when to listen to those older and more experienced."

Chagrined, he could do nothing but squirm back into his chair. "Of course, Professor. I meant no disrespect."

"I know you didn't, Harry. What I say next will be difficult to understand, as so many things are in these increasingly dark days. There are changes taking place in our world, with fear as their main motivator. As we speak, a ministry driven campaign has been launched with the sole purpose of discrediting our belief that Voldemort has returned."

"I just don't understand."

"Cornelius uses the Daily Prophet as his tool, knowing it will reach the masses and each magical person who fears to even speak Voldemort's name will gladly believe the minister in the hopes to hold on to their sense of safety."

He had already guessed at that but this was Dumbledore, surely he was able to stop them. "And we can't do anything?"

"For the moment, we can only reach those who are willing to believe and prepare for the worst."

"And I just do nothing. I go to Hogwarts and pretend nothing is happening. I let Fudge and the Prophet call me a liar and Voldemort goes on murdering innocent people like Cedric?"

"No. In fact, that is the reason I came to see you today."

It wasn't difficult to see where Dumbledore was going, the truth set like a heavy stone in his stomach. "You don't want me to return to Hogwarts do you?"

"I'm sorry Harry."

This time he didn't bother to remain in his seat. His furious pacing only mirrored his racing thoughts. "You can't do this. Hogwarts is my home! You can't make me stay here with them, I hate it here!"

"Harry please."

"It's not fair! I'm to be punished because Voldemort's back."

"Harry," a firm grasp of his arm cut off his angry words. "Please allow me to finish before leaping to the wrong conclusions."

Reluctantly, he sat back down, a petulant frown creasing his face. "I'm sorry." But he really wasn't because it sounded like Dumbledore was implying that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts in September and he just couldn't imagine not returning to the Wizarding world.

It was where he belonged. Not here tucked away like something to be ashamed of. He got enough of that here at the Dursley's.

"The Ministry has decided to take an interest in Hogwarts. Given the previous years and our difficulties in finding a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Minister Fudge has elected to place their own official in the position. Can you deduce a reason why the Minister would make such a decision?"

It took several moments but finally he did come upon one reason. "A spy. Fudge wants to monitor what happens at Hogwarts. To see if we're trying to convince the students that Voldemort has returned."

"Precisely. Now, with Voldemort's return, I would ordinarily say that Hogwarts is the safest place for you. Yet with the Ministry's interference, I am saddened to admit, this is not the case. Therefore, I've arranged for you to attend a different school this year under an assumed identity, while Harry Potter employs private tutoring due to his distraught from the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

* * *

_3_

_What's In A Name_

The next morning a few minutes after seven, he could hear the loud fussing of his Aunt Petunia as she complained about the disruption of her precious daily routine by the freaks like her nephew. Yesterday's truce was evidently over. He fought down the pang of hurt that always managed to twist in his stomach whenever she called him that. He should be used to it by now. They had called him all sorts of insulting names like freak and worthless for as long as he could remember. Yet for some reason it always hurt to know that his Aunt, his mother's sister, felt that way about him.

"Just a while longer," he murmured aloud, assuring himself that he could survive a few more days of being hated. He had survived more than ten years of it, after all.

The sounds of padlocks opening on his bedroom door pulled him from his more depressing thoughts. It was too bad the Headmaster had used Fawkes to travel directly into his bedroom. Perhaps if the man had seen the bolted door he would take Harry's concerns about his relatives more seriously. He would hate to think Dumbledore knew he was treated like an Azkaban prisoner and chose to ignore it.

The door creaked open and Harry immediately noted the familiar face. "Professor Lupin?" His smile of greeting was genuine, for he was always pleased to see one his parents' friends.

Not much had changed about his former DADA professor. The dark blue jumper and trousers he wore in deference to Muggles were still worn and shabby. As it was more than a week after the full moon, he didn't look quite as exhausted or ill from his transformation.

"Oh, I'm supposed to ask you something." The strange message was difficult to recall but finally it came to him. "_'All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players.'_"

"_'Now go we in content To Liberty, and not to banishment.'_" Remus answered in return, repeating the phrase that Dumbledore had told him to expect, proving that Remus was indeed the former DADA professor and not an enemy in disguise. "I'm glad you remembered. It's important that you be careful, especially now. And it's been a while since I've been your professor, Harry. You're welcome to call me Remus."

"Are you planning to let me in, _Remus_, or do I get to stand out in the hall for this visit?"

Remus smiled at his obvious startle but did stand aside to allow his companion to enter the small bedroom as well. Whoever Harry had been expecting, she certainly wasn't it.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Hi," he greeted cautiously, his wave unsure.

Dumbledore explained that two members of the secret organization he headed would be arriving this morning to collect him. The Order of the Phoenix was founded during the first war to help combat Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Professor Lupin was a previous member, along with his godfather Sirius and his parents.

"Harry this is Emmeline Vance. She's a member of the old crowd that Professor Dumbledore would have spoken with you about."

Ms. Vance was a beautiful woman, which caught him off guard. Not that he hadn't seen pretty women before but he just didn't expect to be entertaining them in his shoddy bedroom here on Privet Drive. She looked to be around the same age as Remus, though her dark waist length hair lacked the premature streaks of grey that marked Remus' wearing life as a werewolf. She wore muggle clothing, a purple sundress with prints of butterflies in different sizes and sensible black leather ballerina flats. In deference to the chill in the air, a black cropped cardigan covered the dress. The unassuming clothing did nothing to disguise how attractive she was.

A smile curved a full mouth, put a light in cornflower blue eyes, as she stepped forward and extended her hand. "Call me Emmy." Then she gripped his hand firmly, proving there was strength behind the feminine exterior. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Sirius speaks of you often."

"Constantly," Remus snorted with good humor.

"You know Sirius?"

"Yes. I knew your parents as well, as I was apart of the old crowd the first time around."

"The old crowd? Is that the," he paused as both of them tensed because he was getting ready to say the Order of the Phoenix.

"We say old crowd when we're in polite company. Keeps things simple when you can't be certain who is listening," Remus explained.

The caution wasn't to be taken lightly, Harry reminded himself. Voldemort had spies and ears everywhere and given what Dumbledore told him about the Ministry, they could probably be counted as the enemy as well.

"So are we ready?"

"I guess so." Though he wasn't quite sure if he was at all.

"Briefly, Dumbledore created this portkey to take you directly to a safe house, our first stop before we move on. There, we'll make a few plans. We won't discuss that here, to err on the side of caution."

Remus removed an old hairbrush that was missing more than half of it's bristles. "Make sure you're touching it." He reminded them, though Harry didn't think he would ever forget how to travel by portkey. Not after the Tri-wizard Tournament. Not after Cedric and the graveyard.

"Shakespeare."

The tug at his navel was still the same jerking sensation he remembered and then they were flying through space at speeds high enough to make him feel nauseous. Remus and Emmy landed neatly, while he ended up sprawled on a thick brown throw rug at their feet. Emmy grinned offering a hand to help him off the floor.

"Welcome to my place," she gestured broadly. "It's humble but it's home." The flat was very nondescript with dark chocolate furniture, soft blue walls and accents, wood trim and bookcases, as well as a fireplace that looked big enough for him to stand in.

"We have time for tea before we take the next portkey. Dumbledore thought we should discuss our plans for the day before heading out. There are some pretty secure wards on this flat, and with a few well placed charms we should be fine to speak freely."

"What plans do we have to make? I mean, Dumbledore explained about attending a new school and that I needed to think about a disguise but there isn't much more to be done, not really."

"It's simple Harry. The ministry will be searching for Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. Complete with messy hair, baggy clothes and scar."

"I don't think there is much to be done about the scar. I looked for glamour charms back in my second year but nothing was strong enough."

"I have some friends who were willing to share some of their trade secrets. A few well placed charms and you should be safe for today. There are more permanent measures planned for the next year. Come, let's have a cup of tea and finish our discussion." Emmy offered before leading the way to the rather small kitchen.

There was a small square shaped table in the center of the room that he and Remus sat at while she went to the sink and began filling a white ceramic tea pot. After a quick tap of her wand, they were settled at the table each with a cup of a dark English Breakfast tea. After learning he hadn't had breakfast, she placed a platter of girdle scones, tea breads and pastries on the table. For once his stomach responded favorably as he ate one of the crumbled topped muffins that were filled with a tangy yellow curd.

The tea was perfect, hot and creamy, and he almost hated to mar the moment with talk of escape.

"So how do we go about hiding me from the rest of the world?"

"It's simple," Emmy answered, "You will be the complete opposite of what the public expects of Harry Potter."

It couldn't be that simple. "If Dumbledore believes this is the safest option, then I guess I can't complain. It will just be weird to be away from Hogwarts and my friends."

"You don't have to worry about safety. I'm sure the school you'll be attending will have wards comparable to Hogwarts. We're probably biased because we love Hogwarts so much," Remus answered.

"I don't know if Dumbledore explained this to you but your friends, Ms. Granger and the Weasley children won't be attending Hogwarts this year either," Emmy explained after taking a sip from her cup.

No he hadn't. "But why!"

"For the same purpose as you. The ministry knows the people you're closest to and wouldn't hesitate to cause them harm."

"Where are they going?" Dumbledore had yet to tell him the name of the institution where he would be spending the next year either.

"I don't know." Remus spoke up. "We were all simply informed of the change in education for you all. I think he's kept their locations a secret to prevent any leaking of valuable information."

"So we're all to be torn away from Hogwarts simply because the Ministry is so stupid."

"Harry look," Remus took him by the shoulder and turned him so they were face to face. "I know you're concerned about your friends but I need you to do something."

"What?" Though he didn't like the way Remus sounded.

"The Weasley family is taking care of each other. Ms. Granger's parents are there for her and we have members patrolling near their home to ensure no danger reaches them. All of your friends have people from the old crowd who are trusted and capable of defending them against attack. I need you to allow us to look after you for once."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can, Harry, but for the sake of your parents and your godfather who is currently insane with worry for you because he can't be here himself, please allow us, _allow me_, this chance to look after you as I haven't been able to all of these years."

"I just don't think," he stopped at the plaintive look on Remus' face. It was difficult to argue with the man, especially when his intentions were only for his well being.

"Let's try this differently, maybe it will help you to feel better about accepting the situation better," Emmy broke in. "With the old crowd, sometimes each of us is given a mission from Dumbledore. We have to utilize all of our resources to make sure that we stay safe and fulfill that mission."

"I guess."

"Now I know you're angry and you're probably ready to jump in and fight You-Know-Who but that's not your mission right now. Your mission is to stay safe and learn as much as possible, so that if the time comes when you're drawn into a fight with Death Eaters, or even You-Know-Who, you'll be better prepared to make it out alive."

"I get it," he relented. "Really, I do. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Well we don't expect miracles," Emmy snorted before nudging his shoulder.

"What you can do is take advantage of this opportunity. You have such potential, proven by the way you performed in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I had help there," he reminded his old professor. Not only from Hermione but from the fake Professor Moody who had been a spy for Voldemort to ensure he made it through the three trials.

"So did the other champions," Remus countered. "It was you who had to fulfill those tasks. Facing an adult nesting Dragon, the depths of the lake, that maze. It was you who was confronted by a newly risen Voldemort and survived."

"You're making it sound worse than it actually was, well except for the facing Voldemort part. That was pretty horrible."

"And it was you who performed a fully corporeal Patronus at 13, saving his godfather from attacking Dementors."

"You definitely helped there," he fidgeted, uncomfortable with the seeming praise that Remus was giving him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I think you should take this opportunity at the new school and make the most of it. Reach beyond what you accustomed to doing. Work harder. I think you might surprise yourself."

Harry understood exactly what Remus meant. How many times had he relied on Hermione to help him understand something or with his work? How many nights had he slacked off with Ron playing chess or exploding snap or talking about Quidditch, then rushed to finish an assignment that was due the next morning?

These were bad habits he had formed during his younger schooling years here with his relatives. There were too many times when he had been punished for performing better than Dudley or worse penalized because a teacher believed the derogatory things his Uncle said about him. So he had learned not to try as excelling had never been rewarded on Privet Drive.

At Hogwarts, he was expected to live up to the reputation of the Boy Who Lived. People wanted him to behave and react a certain way. Even his friends to a certain extent. It was okay to perform well in Quidditch because it was a sport his father enjoyed and any Gryffindor worth his red tie enjoyed. Hermione was the exception not the rule. He should perform well in Defense Against the Dark Arts because it followed the repute of the Boy Who Lived.

At a new school, there would be no preconceived notions. No Slytherins sabotaging his work or spreading rumors. No looks or stares or whispers behind his back.

No Snape.

A grin of pleasure curved his mouth upwards as he realized he would have an entire year of Potions without the hatred of Professor Snape pouring down upon him. Suddenly this year away didn't seem so horrible.

* * *

_4_

_A Rose By Any Other Name_

Harry could honestly say the excursion wasn't as horrible as he anticipated it would be. The trio spent the morning clarifying the details of his new identity. Many of Emmeline's suggestions were overruled for being too complicated. Simple things he never would have considered, though Remus had warned him that it was the little details that often gave away the game.

He decided to stick as close to the truth as possible, creating the persona of a fifteen year old half-blood wizard from England who lived with his Aunt and their family because his parents had been killed in the first war. He lived in a small inclusive Wizarding community that had some occasional interaction with the muggle world which explained his understanding of muggles.

After Remus reminded him, he had decided upon Rosalind for his mother's name and Jacob for his parents names. Rosalind worked as a Healer at the community health infirmary and Jacob was a teacher.

He refused to pretend to be a rich or a pure-blood because there were just too many things about the Wizarding world that he still didn't know that would instantly betray him. He also had an abhorrence for acting anything like Malfoy, who for him represented every bad characteristic of a well to do pure-blood teenager. Neither did he want to emulate Ron nor the other Weasleys. Despite being a wonderful family, being a poor student would also draw unwanted attention.

Instead, he would take this opportunity for what it truly was. A chance to be Just Harry, as he had always desired.

The next portkey dropped them off in the midst of a small affluent magical community near Manchester called Havershire Cross, where they decided he would say he lived. They took a quick tour to get him acquainted with the area, especially the residential section. He and Remus had even jokingly picked out a house where his supposed family lived.

"I think it's nice," he shrugged at the searching look Emmeline gave him. The house wasn't anything special, a simple two story cottage with a large front yard blooming with roses. He heard barking coming from the back and smiled at the thought of a family living here with this neat garden and its white picket fence, complete with dog.

"So who tends the yards?" she asked with a small grin.

"That would be me, though I do get an allowance for it, unlike back at the other place." They had reminded him to be careful how much information he revealed while they were out in public. "Are the others' stories this detailed?"

"Not really," she told him. "There is a reason why we have to be so cautious with you. We aren't just being difficult."

He didn't want to think too much on the whys and wanted to just enjoy the outing. "So, what are we tackling first?"

The two glanced at each other and he had the feeling he wasn't going to like their response.

"I thought we could fix those eyes of yours first. Harry Potter's glasses are almost as famous as Harry Potter himself."

"Don't forget the scar," Harry felt he should point out. Emmy had brought him a potions based cosmetic concealer to neutralize the affects of his scar. Remus and Emmeline smiled remembering how he had argued about creating a new identity due to the scar on his head that was so well known. The fact that resident snarky Potions Master Snape had created it make him slightly ill as Harry knew he would eventually have to thank the man for going to all the trouble, even if Dumbledore had ordered the professor to do it. It was only proper after all.

The town of Havershire Cross was aptly named, with its four main streets forming a cross. At the intersection was the business district that was similar to Diagon Alley but with more upscale shops. There was even a smaller branch of Gringotts and an Inn strangely called Poking the Dragon. Both were at opposite ends of the cross.

The oculist healer they took him to was a crotchety old man, who opened the door to his office with a sneer of Snape-like proportions on his face. Harry had been tempted to turn around and leave. Sensing his state of mind, Remus grabbed his arm and pulled his stiff form inside.

The interior of the office was neat, if not a bit tattered with age but managed to be welcoming despite its owner's attitude. In less than forty five minutes, he was examined and then given a potion that would correct his eye sight for the next six months. The healer explained that there were no permanent repairs for his eyes since he was under the age of seventeen and hadn't reached his magical maturity. He was given four more doses placed under a stasis charm for later on which were kept in a small leather case.

With a face not quite used to being free of glasses, they headed further into the center to the clothiers that lined the street. Again, he and Remus stepped aside and allowed Emmeline to take charge. This was probably a large mistake considering her reaction to his clothes before they left her apartment. After sneering in disgust, she had whipped out her wand, waving it furiously as she chanted. His over-sized trousers shrank down to fit better, the snares in his shirt mended as its size arranged to fit better as well. He had decided to wear his school shoes for the day but they weren't much better as he had been forced to wear them all year.

Her harsh words concerning his wardrobe and muggles who provided it, probably should have made him feel bad but he knew the Dursleys didn't care about him. The only reason he didn't complain about his clothes was to keep the peace with his friend. Ron was forced to wear hand-me downs from his older brothers and Harry hadn't wanted to make his friend feel bad. Especially after seeing those hideous robes Ron had to wear to the Yule Ball.

Shopping for clothes was easy but tiring. He managed a full wardrobe, including several formal robes in charcoal, black, navy and a dark hunter green that both insisted he should have. It was nice having clothes that fit. Both Remus and Emmeline lent their experience of what a young well heeled wizard should have in his wardrobe because he had no clue. He'd never owned things like monogrammed handkerchiefs and pocket fobs, and he barely had two pairs of shoes and now he had twelve.

And that didn't include the knee high boots in a buttery leather that he thought would make him look pretentious but actually looked nice with his formal robes.

Since he wouldn't be returning during the winter break, a cold weather wardrobe, along with winter cloaks and accessories, were purchased as well. The entire kit would be forwarded to Emmeline's apartment for safety measures because it was simply too much to try to shrink and carry with them. This lead them to purchasing three new trunks, a hold all bag for traveling as well as a messenger bag for classes.

"You'll be able to purchase your school robes and supplies when you get there." Remus told him. "Sirius is taking care of everything." When it looked like he would protest. Remus had shrugged and smiled. "Godfather's privilege. We're also going to open a new vault for you to use at school under your new name. This way any purchase you make can't be traced back to Harry Potter."

Their last stop of the day took them closer to the end of the cross. Before he could speak, Emmeline had grabbed his arm and dragged him into what he discovered to be a beauty salon. "Oh no! Not here!"

Remus earned a glare for his snort of laughter that he tried to hide behind a hand, while Emmeline didn't bother to hold hers back. He struggled against their forward progress into what he had deamed girl territory, shocked that she had such a strong grip.

"Come on! You can't be serious!"

"Look," she paused staring down at him. "One of the reasons why I chose Havershire Cross was this place. It's one of the best magical salons in Manchester."

"For girls!" he ranted until she pinned him with another glare.

"Take a gander, kid, there are men and women in here. We need to get the rest of this done and this is the best place for it."

He wasn't too keen on changing his hair in the first place and had thought they forgot when no one brought it up again as they were shopping. He should have known better. Rather than continue to protest the inevitable, he took a look around as Emmy suggested. After several minutes he realized it wasn't as bad as he thought. There was no pink. Thank Merlin. Or frilly things. Thank _Bloody_ Merlin. The basic color scheme was a bold black and white with lots of plant life added for color. As they approached the front counter where a witch sat tapping a quill against her lips, he had to take several deep breaths to calm the panicky feeling in his stomach.

"It'll be fine, kiddo," Remus whispered in his ear, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"That's easy for you to say, I'm the one who has to sit through it," he muttered. That brought on another snort and it was clearly still amused. Then he had a horrifying thought. "If you tell Snuffles I'll kill you. And you should believe me, I killed a basilisk in my second year with a sword, so you'd be pretty easy."

"Too late, he already knows." Fuck! He would never live this down. Especially not with Sirius teasing about it. "Don't worry, he's the only one."

"He's enough," he sighed resigned.

They both looked up to see Emmy speaking with another man Harry never would have expected to work in a beauty salon. His hair was a short spiky burnished gold that brought out the very masculine lines of his face. His eyes were amazingly the same color. He was dressed in a simple dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black trousers that molded perfectly to long lean legs. The only thing that gave away his profession was the smart white apron tied around his waist that held pins and clips and combs that he would typically use. The smile he gave them revealed a dimple in his left cheek.

"Emmy, how is my fiercest witch." And there was nothing effeminate about his remark either, not with that husky baritone. "Still catching criminals?"

They hugged quickly, with Emmeline busing a kiss over his scruffy cheek. "Ham, I'm fine. I don't have to ask how you're doing because you still look like a walking advertisement for sexual favors."

"I blame my wife, of course. She keeps me very happy."

"It shows," she snickered.

"So," Ham turned that piercing gaze in his direction. "This is my last client of the afternoon."

Ham didn't use his first name but Harry was sure the man knew exactly who he was. "Hamilton Lillienfield, at your service."

Harry took the offered hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you." But he didn't offer his own name as he had been cautioned.

"If you'll all follow me back, I have a private room prepared for us."

They followed him through the elegant salon to the back room and he closed the door behind him. It was larger than he expected with the usual chair for the client and table that held lots of combs and bottles. There was also a large plush couch in forest green where Remus and Emmeline could sit. On the coffee table, there were glasses and a pitcher of what looked like pumpkin juice but he couldn't be too sure, as well as several tidbits to be nibbled on.

"So, what exactly do we need?" Ham asked of Emmeline who was definitely in charge of this portion of the programme.

"New hair. This black mop is just too recognizable," she answered, giving his hair a ruffle. "I'm thinking a cut and color."

"Color," Harry interrupted, "We never said anything about color."

"I guess we thought you understood that," Remus put in, with a shrug, as if it wasn't a big deal that they wanted to do these things to him.

"Let's see what we can work with," Ham turned to the large mirror behind him. It was mounted in an elegant frame that looked like it belonged in some woman's bathroom rather than here. He tapped the mirror with his wand and said, "Client, Smith One." Then there was a bright flash of light as if someone had taken his picture but Ham said nothing, neither did Remus or Emmeline, so Harry didn't either.

"Let's start off with color." The mirror changed, and his reflection had a hair of platinum blond hair that reminded him sickeningly of Draco Malfoy.

"No!" The shout echoed from three different directions.

Harry moved his head, turning left then right, grimacing and the reflection made the same face proving that it was indeed him in the mirror looking like the ferret.

Ham just chuckled. "Relax, that's just the starting color." A few more taps against the glass and the hair was more of a tawny blonde. It wasn't just the hair on his head either. His eyebrows and lashes had adjusted so they were of a comparable color as well. He looked nothing like Harry Potter, especially with the scar and glasses missing but it still looked too artificial. They all agreed.

"How about a dark auburn?" Remus suggested.

Ham's face grew thoughtful, then a few taps later, his hair was a dark red which wasn't bad at all and there was a lighter red highlight if he turned his head a certain way.

"It's not quite your mother's color but it's close."

That decided it for him. "This one."

"It's looks good on you, especially with your skin tone."

"And definitely not ginger like the Weasleys," Emmeline added.

"Now how about length?" Ham tapped the glass and his hair went from its normal cowlick mess to short and blunt like his. Harry was tempted because the style looked good to him but he thought it seemed to emphasize his features, especially his eyes.

"How about something longer," Emmeline suggested. A tap later and his hair lengthened just to his shoulders, slightly shaggy and framed his face. There was a natural slightly off center part so that his hair could fall slightly over his brow if he wanted. It was simple, with enough hair to remove those wild cowlicks that refused to lie down.

"I like it," Remus nodded at the reflection. "As you're the one who has to live with it, what do you think?"

"It's not too drastic. That's a good thing. I look like myself but I think it will be different enough to not draw attention."

"It looks good on you," Ham said. "Doesn't take much up keep. It's a good wash and go style. It's also long enough if you wanted to pull into a ponytail," He tapped the mirror and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It didn't look bad but he probably would never wear it that way. "The length is just proper for a young family head."

"I think I'll go with this."

"Good, so we'll go ahead and get started. We have a deep clean facial, manicure, pedicure, a hair lengthening potion, a cut and color, and an eyebrow tint."

"What!" They hadn't agreed on all of that. The chair turned around and reclined jolting him backwards into a supine position. "Remus!"

"Just lay back and try to enjoy it, kiddo." Remus snorted, obviously amused again.

* * *

_5_

_You Don't Know My Name_

They finished the day with an early supper at a quaint family style Italian restaurant that was situated just in the southeast quadrant of the Cross. Emmeline had suggested the secluded place and Harry had to admit the place was rather cozy, like what he imagined the interior of the houses of Old Rome would look like. There were dark wooden high beams and rustic brick. Muted yellow lighting was a soft glow on faded floral wallpaper. There were even casks of homemade wine behind the bar.

A waitress showed them to a rectangular table near the rear. He tried not to be nervous, this wasn't like the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade or the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. Though it wasn't blatantly expensive to make him uncomfortable, this was the first time he had eaten in a real restaurant without his friends and the last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself.

"The best thing about the Alla Rampa, is that the food is served family style." Emmeline told them. When she saw that Harry had no idea what she meant she went on to explain. "The food is prepared to serve the table, so you typically choose three or four entrees to share."

That didn't sound too bad, he thought, but when he looked at the menu that was written in Italian he wanted to bump his head to the table in frustration.

"If you don't mind, I can order for us all. I've been here before with Ham and his wife Diana. Everything is really good, so you don't have to worry there."

"It's fine with me," Remus said, though Harry had a feeling he did so more to make him comfortable than any true desire. Remus probably could have deciphered the menu.

"Yes, please," he murmured not happy admitting that he was feeling inadequate.

"I was thinking of starting with pasta and a vegetable risotto and then a meat?"

"So much?" Remus asked and she laughed.

"Believe me, you'll enjoy it all."

The same waitress that had escorted them to their table returned with a large metal pitcher of water and began filling their goblets. Then she turned to them with a smile, "May I get you something to start?"

"Yes, we'll have the Bread Board with extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar and the antipasti tray with olives, prosciutto, roasted peppers, tomatoes, mozzarella and salami Romana."

The waitress copied down their order on her small notepad before asking, "And would you care for a bottle of wine?"

"Yes, we'll take a carafe of the house red." Emmeline waited until the waitress left before saying, "I know you're thinking Harry should have something else but at most schools, the students are exposed to a dinner with wine after they turn fifteen. Actually, most children are started with tasting wine when they're at least ten. It's to help them develop a discerning palate and help in planning meals for guests when they're older."

"It's fine," Remus relented, "I guess it's best if Harry has his first taste here with us than off where he might not be as cautious as he could be."

Harry didn't want to say that he had been imbibing alcohol since third year after Quidditch matches. It was a Gryffindor tradition. Though he hadn't anything stronger than some honey ale and a few sips of Old Ogden's. It hadn't been so long that Remus forgot Quidditch parties, he was probably just applying some selective memory.

The waitress brought out the appetizers, several loaves of fragrant bread and dishes of meat and cheese and other things that actually made his mouth water despite having never had most of them before. They served up some of the food, pouring a small glass of wine and began eating before the conversation resumed.

"This is very good," Remus complimented as he bit into a thick slice of bread that had been brushed with oil and vinegar.

"It is," Harry agreed with a hum of delight as he bit into a thick olive. After eating a bit more, Emmy turned the conversation to their activities of the day.

"So, shopping wasn't completely horrid, now was it?"

"Compared to what?" He joked but rolled his eyes and gave in. "No, I guess it wasn't completely horrible. I didn't mind the clothes so much or getting the eye exam."

"I thought you were going to cry at the salon," Emmy snickered.

"Thought he would scream and run myself," Remus snorted in remembrance.

"Very funny."

"We will probably head back to my apartment after supper. Unless you have some other purchases to make?"

"I think I would like to visit a book store. I probably won't have much opportunity for recreational reading but it might be nice to have the option available." It was rare that he bought things for himself and definitely not books. Hermione would be so proud. Ron would think he was insane to waste money on books. He honestly hadn't thought to supplement his reading materials in previous years and now that he had the chance he wanted to take advantage.

He was also thinking of purchasing some journals to keep up with the events of the year so he would remember what to tell his friends.

"Did you have the opportunity to look through the course listing that Dumbledore left for you?"

"A little. I was surprised to find that some of our classes at Hogwarts were different there. Like Potions for instance. It's combined with Herbology and Basic Healing. NEWT 6th years take an Intermediate course, 7th years are Advanced and there is even an 8th year apprenticeship offered."

"I didn't think you were interested in those subjects, "Remus said.

"I just think it will be nice to not have to watch out for Snape and the other Slytherins for a year. I don't mind the rivalries, it's the outright hatred and sabotage that I don't like."

"Have you given any thought to what you might like to do after school?"

"I'm not all that familiar with the careers offered in the Wizarding world. We were supposed to have some counseling with our Head of House this year. I know there seems to be a lot of positions connected with the Ministry but I'm not sure I want anything to do with the Ministry after all of the trouble they're causing."

"You shouldn't let that stop you from applying, Harry. It takes brave and outspoken people to make changes, especially the hard ones."

He didn't know how he felt about that. After the years spent enduring the alternate accolades and spite from the people and press, he didn't think he was ready for more years in the spotlight. "September and October on the weekends there are seminars that explore careers. I guess I'll be signing up for that."

"That's a good idea. I do know that many of upper level careers require at least five NEWT scores of at least E or above."

"If Fudge could get O's, I could probably test for my NEWTS now then." He was being silly, given Fudge and the Ministry's insistence that Voldemort hadn't returned.

It wasn't much later that they were sharing plates of Pollo Piccante, a pasta dish made of linguine, roasted chicken breast served with a spicy sauce, baby plum tomatoes spinach and cream, Verde Risotto, a risotto complete with green beans, peas, broad beans, courgettes, spinach and finished with Grand Padano, lemon and mint. Remus especially enjoyed the Agnello con Peperonata, Braised lamb shanks served with Basil, roasted vegetables and a pot of potatoes with tomatoes, red onion and Grand Padano. He had to admit the tender lamb was delicious. School had not long ended and his relatives hadn't quite starved him, so he was able to enjoy small servings of everything.

"What is it that you do for a living, Emmy, if you don't' mind my asking."

"I don't. I'm actually a Hit wizard. We specialize in tracing dark wizards and collecting the information needed to get them to trial and in a cell where they belong."

He wanted to ask how a department like hers had overlooked something as important as a trial for Sirius, but found he really didn't want to know the answer. He was growing horribly disillusioned with the actions of the Wizarding world. Oh, he still loved magic but there was just so much else that he was starting to hate, especially when fingers of blame and suspicion were always pointed in his direction.

Sometimes he was amazed at how backwards things could be in the Wizarding world in comparison to the muggle one. It was rare that a high profile criminal like Sirius Black would go to prison without a trial. He would have been afforded legal representation at the very least. And though the press could be outrageous in the muggle world, especially the paparazzi, they had some limits and didn't harass kids to the extent they pried into his life. For all the advantages magic could offer, there were just so many drawbacks.

Perhaps they felt they could malign him because he was 'the boy who lived' and therefore considered a public figure. Or perhaps it was simply because he didn't have any parents who would have stood up for him and not tolerated such harassment.

"Remus, what did my parents do?"

There was a brief look of surprise, as if Remus had thought he knew the answer to those questions already. "Your father was an Auror. They were fast tracking Aurors back then because of the war. As soon as one class would graduate, You Know Who and his Death Eaters would kill so many of them that they were forced to graduate recruits early. Lily hated it in the beginning. Most wives did. Especially those owls from the ministry that came in the night to inform you if a loved one had been killed. That was before someone had the dignity to start an office for those notifications and then a wizard would go out the next morning to deliver the news."

He couldn't imagine how his mother felt. Waiting for his father to come home at night and things had to be even more dangerous with him as a member of Dumbledore's Order.

"Your mother was a healer. She worked in the spell damage ward and did a lot of good, saved a lot of lives. That was before she became pregnant with you. When you came along, both your parents resigned their positions, concentrating solely on working with the old crowd. Then they were eventually forced to go into hiding." Remus trailed off there because they both knew what had happened to his parents after they went into hiding.

"Do you think you might like to be an Auror?" Emmy asked but he declined.

"Not really all that fond of Ministry right now," he lifted a shoulder, and could anyone blame him? They were doing their best to ruin his name and convince the public that he was some kind of attention seeking brat. Honestly Harry was surprised that Fudge hadn't brought him up on murder charges for Cedric's death, since he was so determined to believe that Voldemort's resurrection was a figment of his overactive imagination. The Minister probably would if he felt he could get a conviction. So it was probably ideal that he wasn't returning to Hogwarts for the year.

"You have plenty of time," Remus told him. "Just be aware that with those NEWT classes, you have to get at least an Exceeds Expectations or better in several subjects on your OWLS to be admitted to NEWT level classes. You're perfectly capable of achieving those scores if you study hard and apply yourself. There are many careers available that have nothing to do with the Ministry, so you have options that many of the students you know just won't have."

"You really think I could get Exceeds Expectations or better in my classes?" He expected Remus to think Hermione would get those kinds of scores, not him.

"With a little more effort on your part, I know you're capable of getting those scores, Harry. I've seen how hard you work when the subject interests you. The perfect example is your dedication to learning the Patronus charm. Now you just need to set goals like that in all of your classes. You can find a healthy balance between being a good student and having fun, Harry. It is possible without dedicating yourself to such extremes like your friend Hermione does."

* * *

_6_

_You Just Call Out My Name_

The portkey dropped them back in the middle of Emmeline's sitting room shortly after seven-thirty in the evening and Harry had never been this kind of satisfied before. Just an all around mellow feeling that was simply too rare in his life.

Perhaps having a day out like a normal teenager without feeling pressured or concerned for others feelings was the cause. If he had gone out with Hermione today, she would have balked at most of his purchases, determining it was more important to be equipped intellectually than bothering with so many physical adornments. She wouldn't have tried to stop him but she would have worn a disapproving frown most of the day. Hermione was definitely geared toward practicality than artifice.

Ron on the other hand would have been envious and Harry would have felt bad and there would have been snide comments tucked into the conversations that would eventually anger him.

Or perhaps having a full belly in the summertime when he was normally accustomed to that grinding ache of hunger was the cause of his contentment.

Either way, he sat down on the couch, setting his bags on the floor next to his feet, pleased with his purchases as well as the food he had ordered as carry away that was set under preserving charms. He was looking forward to eating another slice of that chocolate hazelnut torte thing that Emmy had ordered for pudding. It was leaps and bounds better than treacle tart and that was his favorite sweet.

The leftovers from their meal had been packed up and Harry figured he could have that later on tonight when his stomach woke him. Later during the week, he would have breakfast, lunch and supper, consisting of things like breads and cheeses, large salads and even something called a calzone which was resembled pizza folded up like a pastie. All he had to do was tap his wand to the container to release the charm and he would have a meal served to the ideal temperature just as if it had been prepared that day.

"Do I want to know why you're hoarding food Harry?" Remus asked and though his face was still and somber, there was feral light of rage burning in his amber eyes, as if he knew the answer to the question but didn't dare speak it aloud. For some reason that really irritated him.

"You saw the door to my bedroom and locks. The cat flap at the bottom of the door. Why do you think I ordered some extra food?"

"But! But Dumbledore said he went to see you!" Emmy's expression was also one of displeasure and suspicion.

"He couldn't have left me there?" Harry finished for her because she looked like she just couldn't bear to think that a man she admired could do such a thing. "Dumbledore's main concerns are that I'm safe from Death Eaters and Voldemort. That's the big picture. I've come to understand that small things like food, clothes, affection and basic human rights just aren't that important when I'm involved."

Remus' fist clenched against the arm of his chair so tightly that Harry thought it might crush it. He watched the man drag in a deep harsh breath to cool his temper. "You speak as if you're satisfied with that."

"I've had my entire life to accept my circumstances." He shook his head at the pity in their eyes.

"That isn't me being a martyr or self-sacrificing. It's just a fact of my life. Third year when I found out about Sirius, I thought maybe things might change but even now when I look back I'm not so certain that Dumbledore would have allowed me to go live with him. Even if we had managed to prove him innocent. Dumbledore would have insisted on me renewing the blood wards and maybe allowed me to stay with Sirius toward the end of the summer."

"It wrong that you're resigned to this," Emmy shook her head in frustration. "Even if the blood wards are so effective, it just doesn't change the fact that your relatives have reduced you to hoarding food away so that you might eat!"

He didn't know Emmeline that well, so perhaps he could appreciate her anger more so than Remus's. It was hard to have your idols dragged down from their pedestals and made mortal. So many people looked to Dumbledore to know the right thing to do that no one realized that they might not agree with what he considered to be right.

"When I was younger, I would dream of someone to come and rescue me." He said softly.

He was hesitant to speak of this, it made him feel awkward and vulnerable. These were things that he kept locked in the depths of his heart. Things he didn't want others to know about him. He hadn't even told Hermione and Ron the things he would say aloud just more one time. Why? He didn't know, maybe there was the small flicker of hope in his heart that if he told someone just this one final time that things might change.

And he hated that he still had that innocent hope because after all these years he had learned that no one listened. Snape said he had no respect for authority and deep down inside, he knew he didn't. Because Authority had done nothing to save him from the abuse and hatred his relatives had heaped upon him. So why should he respect them if they couldn't respect him in return.

"I would sit in my cupboard and hope and wish that there was someone out there who loved me and wanted me, not like my Aunt had said, that no one wanted a Freak like me. Then after a while, I grew up and realized there was no one. The only person I could depend on was myself. So I dreamed a new dream. I dreamed of the day I could walk out of the Dursleys' house and would never have to return. That's a good dream. I still have it sometimes."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Surely something could have been done?" Remus's expression had turned from anger to one of desolation.

Harry could see the blame Remus place on himself and he wanted to absolve the man, for he understood now that Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed Remus to take Harry away or anyone else for that matter. Circumstances and events had conspired to keep him tied to the Dursleys and as much as he hated living there, they were his remaining family and he didn't want Death Eaters slaughtering them just because they shared blood. They may not respect that bond of family but he did and he wouldn't betray himself just to satisfy his hatred of them.

"When I first started Hogwarts, I had hoped to get away from the Dursleys. Then Dumbledore explained about the blood wards and I understood why it was important for me to stay. Otherwise I would have left when I was finally old enough to realize that I didn't _have_ to stay with them and that I had the means to escape their prison."

He hadn't run before discovering the Wizarding world, because he had nothing and didn't want to end up living on the streets or shunted off to a children's home. The Dursleys were bad but things could have been much worse.

"It's a wonder you don't hate us all," Remus whispered.

"I could be angry or hateful if that will make you feel better." It was said with such dry sarcasm and innocent expression that Remus couldn't help the self depreciating grin that crept across his face. Emmy on the other hand wasn't so composed.

"You speak so calmly of things I've been trained to investigate. It's abuse and all the reasoning in the world doesn't negate that fact. That environment is bound to have left scars, even if most of them are mental ones. I wouldn't leave an animal in that house, let alone a child!"

"My mother's sacrifice made it possible for me to be safe from Death Eaters. But it also left me in purgatory. I'm not sure she would have wanted that for her child." He took a breath and set the emotions aside just as he always did and focused on the bigger picture. Brooding upon what wouldn't change was never productive. He much preferred to brood on things he could change.

"To answer your question Remus, I had the chance to get food for the week. It would have been foolish not to take advantage. There will be enough complaints when they see all the new things, and my glasses missing and the hair. I'll probably be locked in for the rest of the week Dumbledore is leaving me there and only allowed out for chores."

"Do you honestly think I'm going to allow you to go back to those people after what you've told me?"

Harry looked at the stubborn expression Emmeline's face and wanted to laugh. That was much better than the anger or worse the pity. He didn't want or need anyone to pity him. "Dumbledore isn't going to like it."

"I prefer to be able to look at myself in the mirror at night," Emmy said. "Dumbledore will have to make alternate arrangements, or just kick me out of the old crowd."

"You're a talented witch with connections in the Ministry of Magic. Somehow I don't think Dumbledore will be revoking your membership anytime soon, regardless of you disobeying this order," Remus drawled. "Besides, it isn't just your decision. It's mine as well. I may not be able to make amends for my lack of presence in your life in the past, Harry, but I can do something about now."

"I didn't say all of this to get you to disobey Dumbledore."

"I'm an intelligent, adult witch Harry. Dumbledore my lead the old crowd but he isn't my father. I'm allowed to have opinions of my own as well as to act in the best interests of a child."

"Not a child," he muttered.

"No," she patted him on the shoulder. "Not a child. But not an adult either. So don't worry about us, you just concentrate on getting to this new school and working hard."


	2. Part II: Noir Interlude

Warnings: AU after GoF.

Pairing: Harry/Sally-Anne

It has many parts and any romance involved won't come along until much later in the story.

Rated: M for violence, language, adult content

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

Summary: With the Ministry of Magic against him and Voldemort seeking his death, Harry Potter knew his only hope was to leave everything he had come to love and seek sanctuary in another land.

What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined.

What he found would help him win a war.

* * *

**2**

**Noir Interlude**

* * *

_1_

_Familiarity Breeds Contempt_

The three left from an alley across from a park with a loud crack that sounded like a car backfiring only to appear seconds later on a street across from a row of houses that had begun to show the wear of years of neglect. The neighborhood was quiet despite its haggard appearance with the moon in the night sky helping street lamps illuminate the block. He had only remained at Number 4 long enough to pack up his trunk, free Hedwig and tell her to follow him and inform his Aunt that he would be leaving for the remainder of the summer. Both of them had been elated. The first time they ever shared something in common.

"I need you to remember the words from the piece of paper, Harry," Remus reminded him.

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place._

And just like that what was once hidden became visible to his eyes.

"Not too late to change your mind," he offered, knowing that Dumbledore would not be happy with their decision to remove him from the Dursleys. It might make his Aunt angry but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before.

Not only that but he was sure Dumbledore wouldn't be happy that Remus had convinced Sirius to make a copy of the secret so that he would be able to get pass the Fidelius. While the Headmaster had cast the charm to hide the headquarters, Sirius had insisted on being the secret keeper this time. Grimmauld Place was after all a Black residence that Sirius was generous enough to allow the Order to use. Dumbledore hadn't been pleased about it but Remus told him that Sirius had been insistent.

Given what happened the last time secret keepers were involved, Harry didn't blame his godfather not one whit.

"It will be fine," Emmy assured him with a hand to his shoulder.

He had barely made it through the front door when he was almost run over by a woman barreling down the stairs. She was just taller than him with bright pink hair and dressed in a fitted black t-shirt, under a cropped denim jacket and ripped black leggings over a pink plaid skirt. Trying to avoid a collision, she skipped to the side and instead tripped over what he thought resembled a Troll's leg, and sent it crashing loudly to the floor. The resulting commotion brought forth the shrieking vitriol of one of the paintings on the wall.

The image looked less like a woman and resembled a hag with her eyes bulging and face screwed into such a nasty snarl. Worse were the foul words that spewed from her mouth.

"Mudbloods! Blood Traitors! Defiling the noble house of Black! Disgusting half breeds should be destroyed!"

Strangely curious, like witnessing a car wreck and being unable to break your gaze away, he walked to the painting, his head tilted to the side as he watched her scream. It reminded him of Vernon Dursley's reaction when he left tonight and a blistering rage came over him so quickly he could barely suppress a physical reaction. He'd had quite enough of hearing insulting comments about himself from that man. He wasn't going to take it from some bits of color and paper.

As if feeling his eyes upon her, she turned that virulent temper on him. And despite how awful the woman looked, he could tell she was a Black from the aristocratic features and the piercing grey eyes that mirrored his godfathers.

"I bet you're one of those filthy half-bloods as well! You should have been drowned at birth! And what are you staring at!"

"At you actually," he answered and decided to throw what she considered to be the worst insult back at her. "You sound like my Uncle. He's a bigot as well. Except he's a muggle."

Her gasp was echoed by others in the hall but he ignored them for the moment. "How dare you compare me to that animal! Do you know who I am, boy?"

"Not really," he lifted a shoulder in disregard. "Don't really care either, you're just a painting."

"YOU-"

Before she could begin disparaging his birth and blood and character and whatever else, he said, "You know muggles have this wonderful invention, perhaps they have a magical version that you've heard of. It's called turpentine. It's used to remove paint stains. I don't know how it would work on a magical painting but it might be interesting to find out."

He leaned in closer to whisper, eyes narrowed and a look of loathing normally reserved for his relatives. He was pleased when her eyes widened and she flinched away. "I'd be careful who you call a filthy mudblood, it's rather easy to purchase." The fact that he could acquire some turpentine and remove her, considerable paint stain she was, was left unsaid but her understanding of the implied threat shown in the way her mouth firmed.

"You wouldn't dare!" she snarled and if she had been real he was sure he would have been covered with the spittle that flew from her mouth.

"Maybe. Maybe not." He drew in a deep breath as if to say he really didn't care either way but the cold wrath in his eyes was unmistakable. "Do you truly want to find out what I'd dare?"

Furious at being outmaneuvered for the moment, she fell silent and turned her back to him still managing to sneer down her nose at him over her shoulder.

"I'll leave you with your thoughts then, Madam." When he turned around the hall was full of people now, each staring in shock. "What's wrong?"

"You managed to shut her up," the pink haired woman told him.

"No one ever manages to make her stop shrieking once she gets started," A dark skinned wizard explained seeing his confusion. "Usually, we're forced to close the curtains to her painting to muffle the noise. How did you do it?"

He didn't want to admit to basically threatening a picture with being erased so he just let the silence drag on. Thankfully Fred broke in, "Never mind that, what's with the hair!"

And of course where there was Fred, George was never far behind. "And what happened to your glasses!"

"Look at ickle Harrykins."

"All grown up."

"Hey guys," he grinned at the Weasley twins, used to their antics but always happy to see them.

That's when it really hit him. For the first time in the years since he had started Hogwarts he would be going off to school without his friends. It left him feeling lost. Whatever he might have said next was smothered beneath the crushing hug of his best friend.

"Hermione!" He managed around a mouthful of her wild hair. "It's good to see you too!"

She was followed by Ron who looked like he had sprouted up several inches over the last weeks. Ron clapped him on the shoulder, a bright smile on his face. "Give up there Hermione. A bloke needs to breathe." They didn't bother to hold back their laughter as she jerked back, appalled. "There we are, nice to see you mate."

"You too, Ron."

Hermione grabbed his arms, a look of concern on her face as she started to ramble. "I know you're probably angry with us Harry for not writing you but you have to understand that Dumbledore insisted. He was worried that any owls might be intercepted."

"It doesn't matter," he tried to reassure her.

Point of fact, he was furious. He had been through a traumatic experience and dumped off at his relatives with no one thinking that perhaps he needed to talk about it. It never occurred to him that his friends would basically abandon him but he wasn't surprised that it was on Dumbledore's orders. The argument he could have had just wasn't important at the moment. He had precious little time to spend with his friends before he was shipped off to another school. The last thing he wanted to do was spend it angry.

Before Hermione could voice the protest that he knew was coming, he heard the voice of his godfather and it had him turning with a shout of joy. "Sirius!"

They crossed the room to each other, sharing a grin of delight before he was pulled into one the best hugs he'd ever had. He had no experience but thought this might be what it felt like to be held by a father and if he lingered too long, could anyone truly blame him.

Sirius pulled away, giving him a thorough once over. A shiver of apprehension crept into his stomach as he remembered exactly where he had been this afternoon and the changes that were made to his appearance. What would Sirius think of them? Would he be disappointed that he looked less like his father than before?

"It's not so very different." A large hand reached up to thread through the dark red locks. A flicker of what he thought might be sadness flickered through Sirius' eyes before it was replaced with a very Marauder like smirk. "It's like a mixture of James and Lily." The same hand mussed his hair before sliding down to cup the side of his face. A quick wink told Harry all he needed to know. "You look good kiddo."

"Thanks." He relaxed because it was important to him what his godfather thought.

"You know mostly everyone here but I don't believe you've been introduced to these two," Sirius pointed to the woman with exotic hair and the dark skinned wizard from before. "Pinky over there is my cousin, Nymphadora Tonks."

"Hey! I told you not to call me by that name!" Pink hair flared a violent red matching the woman's ire. She even seemed to grow a few inches so that she could glare at Sirius eye to eye. "It's just Tonks!"

Sirius just chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows which told him this was a common argument between the two. "She's a metamorphmagus, that's how she's able to alter her hair colour."

"Wotcher Harry!" she greeted with a bright smile, an abrupt change from her anger before. "I'm what muggles might call a shapeshifter." She proved it by shifting her nose and the lower part of her face into a duck bill and back again.

"Wicked," he grinned. "Bet you manage to get into tons of trouble with an ability like that."

"Of course not, I'm a law abiding witch I'll have you know." She didn't even bother to hold back a snort of laughter from those words. Given her presence here at Sirius' house, that proved she was perfectly willing to bend the law when necessary.

"That's Kingsley Shacklebolt," Sirius pointed to the man.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," came the greeting in a rich baritone voice.

"None of that standing on ceremony here, Kingsley," Sirius interrupted. To him, Sirius said, "Kingsley is still getting used our company of miscreants but give us time. He and Tonks are Aurors with the ministry. In fact, he is the Auror in charge of apprehending the infamous Sirius Black."

"I believe Sirius is starting to believe his own press again," Emmy murmured but it was definitely loud enough for them all to hear.

"I'm not surprised," Remus answered causing them all to laugh.

"Oye! It's not that funny," Sirius insisted which made them laugh that much louder.

"It's nice to meet you both," Harry waved a return greeting then added, "And thank you for not arresting my godfather."

"We're both very grateful. Now, seeing as it's almost eleven, why don't you head upstairs with your friends and get settled in." Sirius saw the protest he was about to make and gave the shoulder beneath his fingers a slight squeeze of understanding. "Ron and the others can show you to your room. You should probably get some rest, I'm sure it's been a long day. We can talk in the morning."

* * *

_2_

_I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends_

When Harry woke the next morning, he was disoriented. The bed he lay in was comfortable, the room had a mild scent of disuse which was very different from his tiny room back on Privet Drive which always seemed to smell like sweaty teen boy no matter how much he cleaned it. It only took a few seconds for him to remember he was in Sirius' family house at Grimmauld.

This was his brother Regulus' old bedroom.

Sirius had cleaned it in hopes that he would spend the rest of the summer here before heading off to Hogwarts. This was before Dumbledore decided Harry would essentially go into hiding for the next year to get away from the Ministry.

The room was great, really, most of Regulus' furniture remained, the dark wood desk, a matching bookcase armoire, chests and a four poster bed. The walls still had their faded wall paper, a blue and cream print to match the bed linen and drapes. Scenic landscape paintings on the walls, which he definitely hadn't expected from a family that was supposed to be as dark as the Blacks were. Then he felt foolish. This was the room of a young man, just because the Black family was prejudiced didn't mean Regulus couldn't enjoy beautiful paintings. He had probably been raised to appreciate such things.

In all, it was a good room.

Ron was upset they weren't sharing, had even shown Harry his cluttered room with its orange dressings and Chudley Cannon posters on the walls to try to convince Harry to change his mind. Mrs. Weasley also kicked up a fuss, claiming as they were best friends of course Ron and Harry would want to share for the short time they would have together this summer. They had done so at the Burrow and enjoyed themselves. Why should things change because they were here?

Sirius was adamant that he would have his own space and refused to cave into the demands of the angry witch. This had drawn out an argument that could have turned ugly had Mr. Weasley not intervened and reminded them that Harry would be leaving soon and shouldn't have to listen to the people he cared about fighting.

Harry didn't mind about the room, and of course this hadn't helped to soothe Ron's hurt feelings. He liked being roommates with Ron and the others at Hogwarts. He even enjoyed sharing at the Burrow. This was different. This was Sirius, his godfather, showing Harry that he had a place in his home and that his room would always be here waiting for him. Ron had that all his life and just couldn't understand why the acceptance was so important to him.

The soft knock at the door told him that he wasn't the only one awake, despite the fact that it was just shortly after six. When he sat up the bedding pooled down to his waist. The room was the perfect temperature, so the dark green t-shirt and matching flannel pajama bottoms he wore were comfortable.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in Harry?"

"Sure."

Hermione peaked in around the door and he grinned, "I'm decent, you can come in."

That brought a sheepish smile to her face. "Good morning. Did I wake you?"

"No, I was just getting up when you knocked. Good morning. Did Mrs. Weasley send you up?"

"No, not yet. Though I did hear her in the kitchen when I went down for the book I forgot last night."

It was always Hermione's habit to read first thing in the morning when they didn't have classes. That didn't change during the summer evidently.

She looked different this morning with her bushy hair pulled to the top of her head in a ponytail and her pink pajamas. He wasn't used to seeing her in such a girlish color. It suggested Hermione during summer break might be a different girl altogether.

"I still can't get over how different you look with your hair so long."

"Is that bad or good?"

"Not sure yet, really. At least it's not as unruly as it was before."

His hair was something of a legend all on its own, especially with how messy it could get. Sometimes it was downright gravity defying. "Emmy and Remus assure me that it helps me to look less like Harry Potter but its subtle enough that it doesn't draw unnecessary attention. With the vision correcting potion, and no noticeable scar, it's even more effective."

"I can barely imagine you without your glasses."

"That's the whole point, though, isn't it?" She looked uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. "So what are you reading?"

"Oh." She raised the book in her hand. "I found a marvelous book on Arithmancy and its relationship to the creation of charms in the Black library."

Okay, maybe she wasn't that different.

He didn't even try to cover his chuckle of laughter. "What can I do for you Hermione? I don't think you came to see me about Arithmancy?" he asked before she could get further into her discussion about a theory that completely escaped him.

"Yes, well, I just wanted to talk. I know you said you weren't but I think you were still angry with us for not writing and I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it."

He should have known she would do this. Guess he could be grateful that she chose to do so when Ron wasn't around. That had the potential to end horribly. Rather than try avoidance, he decided he would just tell the truth and accept the consequences of such.

"It's difficult to accept that all of you were here together with my godfather and I've been stuck on Privet Drive. That isn't so bad, I guess, I'm used to the isolation. Dumbledore said not to owl but it doesn't mean I like it. I mean, how difficult would it have been to have someone slip a letter in the mailbox. I didn't need to hear any secrets but I definitely deserved something more than those first letters demanding that I stay out of trouble or don't do anything foolish like I'm a six year old child who doesn't know any better!"

"That wasn't my intention, to make you feel that way. It's just sometimes you don't take the time to think things through."

"Yes, of course, Hermione and since you're the brains of our Trio it's up to you to remind me. Do you realize how insulting that sounds?"

She looked hurt but not necessarily remorseful of the way she felt. From her perspective he might be all of those things. In his defense he usually didn't seek out trouble but he never ran from it either. He had a healthy curiosity from being denied that truth for most of his life and a lacked respect for authority that had been nurtured by the Dursleys. It wasn't a good combination but this still didn't mean he needed Hermione to admonish him like he was her child.

"It doesn't matter," he decided, releasing a huff of breath.

"But it does!" she insisted. "We won't be at Hogwarts this year together. We have to make things better before you leave."

He was trying to set aside his hurt feelings, mostly because anger wasn't going to change anything that happened and he hated the unsettled feeling being directed toward his friends. This wasn't going to work if Hermione was determined to dissect every emotion he had to try to make it better when in truth it was mostly to make her feel better.

"Hermione, look, I know you mean well but the best thing to do is just let all of this be in the past. We don't have much time before I have to leave and I think there is a better way to spend that time than rehashing things that can't be changed."

"So you just want to ignore it, like you and Ron did last year during the Tri-Wizard Tournament? Don't you see that isn't the way to resolve things?"

"I see you're determined to do this regardless of how I feel about it. I was the one that was supposedly hurt. Shouldn't I be the one to decide if I want to discuss my feelings?"

"You never discuss your feelings!"

"And it's certainly my prerogative if I choose to keep them to myself!" Discussing things that won't ever change tended to make him angry. And what was he, some bloody girl? But he could hardly say that to her. He wasn't thick.

"If you never tell us how you feel then how can we help you? How can we fix it?"

"There's nothing to fix. I don't need you to _fix _me!" Before he lost his temper he asked, "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"I, I-" she stammered, before lowering her eyes to the floor. "I don't know. I just feel like if you leave angry, something bad will happen."

"I'm going to a school where no one will know who I am in the hopes that nothing bad _will_ happen. We just need to get through this next year until Voldemort shows himself and the Ministry is forced to admit he's back. They can't stay in denial forever because sooner or later Voldemort isn't going to settle for attacking muggle-borns in secret. When that happens we'll all go back to Hogwarts, and that will be the end of all of this."

"Maybe you're right," she finally relented for which he was grateful. He had no idea how he would get her to leave him alone otherwise. "And even though I know you're still angry, I won't push anymore."

"Thank you. Now, how about we get dressed and head down for breakfast. We can catch up on what's been going on."

"Should we wake Ron?'

"Let him sleep for a while longer. It will just be the two of us alright?"

That brought a genuine smile to her face and lit up her eyes. "Alright."

As Hermione hurried back to her room, he went to shower and change in the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. Remus and Emmy had binned most of his old clothing from the Dursleys barring a few pairs of denims that actually fit and old t-shirts, so he selected things from his new wardrobe.

A fitted dark blue shirt was paired with black trousers that rode low on his waist and were molded to his legs. Leather loafers were slipped into as he stepped before a mirror.

"Thank you Emmy." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

Then he snorted as he contemplated the amount of galleons they spent yesterday in clothing. Remus had assured him that Sirius wouldn't mind the expense and the fact of the matter was that he truly needed the things they had purchased. Ron would give him a hard time if he knew, so the extent of his new wardrobe was definitely a fact he would keep to himself.

He strapped on a watch he had found, it was one of few extravagances that he had allowed himself to be convinced into purchasing. He had loved the watch from the first time he had seen it, especially all of the brilliant magical enhancements.

It was great to have nice things for once and not the leftovers his Aunt had fobbed off on him from his obese cousin. Sure, he didn't care about money, it was difficult to care about something he hadn't known he had. Then he had discovered his vault and thought more of the future and how when he finally escaped the Dursleys he would have a nest egg to tide him over after school.

It was normal to be pleased to have new things so that he didn't look like an orphan misfit and to have someone who cared enough about him to buy those things. Looking like a ragamuffin might not have bothered him when he was eleven but he was getting older and more aware that appearance did play a part in how people perceived a person.

"Harry dear, don't you look nice," Mrs. Weasley greeted him as he entered the kitchen. She gave him a brisk hug, nothing like her usual smothering ones. As if she was hesitant for some reason.

"Harry?"

Hermione came in just afterwards, stopped and blinked as if she hadn't seen him in twenty years and not the past twenty minutes. "You look," and that seemed to be where everyone was stopping.

"Bad?" He asked because two of the same reactions were bizarre.

"No! Not at all. It's just, I've never, we're not used to seeing. You look nice, it's a bit dressy for around here, but you look nice."

This was actually casual. In fact, Sirius had been dressed similarly the night before.

"Well no dawdling, come in, come in," Molly broke in, waving them to the table. "Let's get you both something to eat."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She gave him a gentle smile that was much better than the earlier hesitance. "It's no problem dear."

"Can I help you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione offered.

"You both can help set the table. I'm sure the others will be down soon enough."

It didn't take long for them to search out the tableware and even less to arrange the plates, silverware, glasses and cups for the others who would join them. Mrs. Weasley worked quickly and efficiently to get the meal together, a habit from feeding a large family no doubt. Sure enough, just as she began setting large platters of food on the table the others began trailing in.

Harry took a little of everything, deciding he would see how he felt before getting another helping. The rashers of bacon were nice and crisp, just as he liked. She had added tomatoes and mushrooms to the eggs to stretch the offering more. He passed on the remaining full breakfast bar a sausage or two, a few potatoes and toast.

Mostly he was watching the show of the remaining Weasleys eat. They certainly weren't hesitant about filling their plates. Of course he was used to seeing Ron eat but it was something to realize that most of the family had the same healthy appetite. Even Ginny wasn't shy about eating.

Sirius and Remus had joined them, but Tonks and Emmy had both returned to their own apartments last night.

"How do you really feel about Professor Dumbledore's decision not to allow you to return to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, sipping at her cup of tea at the end of the meal.

Mr. Weasley had eventually left for the Ministry and the twins slipped away to wherever they went to plot mischief. Mrs. Weasley was cleaning the kitchen from breakfast, leaving just the few of them remaining at the table.

"I know yesterday you said you were fine but is that how you truly feel?"

"Dumbledore believes this year is going to be bad. The Ministry's stance is to turn a blind eye and keep the rest of the Wizarding world ignorant. I thought second year was bad when everyone believed I was the Heir of Slytherin or even last year when they thought I entered the Tournament on purpose. With the Ministry and the papers calling me all kinds of names, I can't even imagine how horrible Hogwarts would be this year."

"I feel guilty about leaving our friends there alone to face things." Ginny muttered.

"There isn't much we can do right now. I think they're probably safer there without us. It would draw less attention to them."

"Maybe we can owl some of the other Gryffindors before we leave to let them know to be careful of the Ministry teacher." Ron suggested.

"That will only work if they don't believe the lies that the prophet is printing. Given past reactions, we can't really guess who to trust with what."

"Neville and Dean," Hermione said. "I think they would believe us."

"I notice you said nothing about Pavarti and Lavender."

"Those two gossips? They may believe you but the stories in the Prophet will be too much of a temptation to resist."

"I just don't understand why people would rather believe Harry and Professor Dumbledore are lying than admit that You-Know-Who has returned. It just doesn't make sense," Ron garbled around a mouth of food.

"I think that's a familiar problem in the Wizarding world. The decided lack of common sense. Why else would they believe Muggles wear women's under garments out in public." Hermione pointed out. They both shared a laugh at that.

"It's easier for them to believe Harry is a liar because they're afraid." Sirius said, drawing the attention of the table.

"That's what Dumbledore said. I just don't think lying to yourself is any better. I would rather be afraid and know the truth and try to prepare than pretend that everything is fine. Even if Fudge has doubts, shouldn't he have ordered some investigations into the possibility?"

"Unfortunately, Minister Fudge has even less common sense than most." Remus answered. "He is accountable to the public opinion and facing a war against the same Dark Lord that caused such destruction as before isn't what he wants to tell the public."

"So it's not a bad thing we won't be at Hogwarts, I guess. I don't like it but after everything I've been through, I don't want to go through being vilified again or worse. If being away from the people who matter most to me is the price to pay, I'll just have to live with it."

* * *

_3_

_Can't See the Wood for the Trees_

After breakfast, Sirius pulled him from the kitchen before his friends could protest. Not that he was too upset, he wanted to spend some private time with his godfather. Due to circumstances, they didn't have the opportunity to bond like they should have. So when they were alone, Sirius felt obligated to tell Harry everything he could about the years the Marauders were at Hogwarts, as if making up for the lack of memories Harry of his father.

Harry had a feeling Sirius preferred to relive those memories than confront the facts that he had spent over a decade in prison, one of his best friends was dead, one had believed him to be a traitor and the other actually was the traitor who caused the destruction of the seemingly unbreakable bond they shared.

They settled into the lounge situated near the library. It was definitely designed with the wizards in the household in mind with its heavy masculine furnishings in greens and grey, dark wood trimming and the large fireplace as the room's focal point. Sirius proceeded to plop down into a leather wing armchair looking thoroughly depressed. If he had spent all of his days trapped in this foreboding house, he would probably look the same.

"I hate this house, did I tell you that?" Sirius looked for confirmation but didn't give him time to speak. "Grew up here, ran away as soon as I could. Of course, my mother disowned me just after. Burned my face right off the family tapestry."

That explained a lot. Sirius told him how his family hated that he was sorted into Gryffindor and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the Black family had a legacy of pure blood supremacists if the painting in the hall was any indication. Harry let his godfather continue on speaking, another story about the Marauders' Hogwarts years and some prank Sirius and his father had pulled, as Harry ran his gaze over the room. It wasn't so bad. There was about an inch of dust but otherwise the furniture had endured, probably with the help of magic.

Mrs. Weasley had the others cleaning the house by hand; he wondered how that was working out, especially when the house still had a dank, filthy feeling. He wasn't going to spend the time in the dark, however, so he went to the heavy drapes at the windows. "No one can see in, right?" He asked Sirius at a break in the man's story.

"Fidelius, remember?"

And he yanked the drapes back to allow the morning sun into the room. Hacking followed as he scrambled away and barely managed to avoid the thick cloud of dust and dirt his action caused. Sirius' barking laughter made him feel foolish but it was better than the tinge of hysteria in his voice when he was reliving the past.

"Allow me," Sirius grinned, pulling his wand from an inner jacket pocket. A quick charm and the room wasn't quite free from dust but better than before and it was still better than sitting in the dark.

"So why did you open the drapes? There could have been a nest of doxies in there. The twins found one in an upstairs bedroom."

"If you have a wand, why are the others cleaning without magic?"

"Molly's trying to keep the kids occupied since they can't go outside. The twins were driving her crazy now that they can apparate."

"Still seems foolish. It will take forever that way." He shrugged, not understanding, but not concerned either. He had been cleaning the muggle way all of his life. The experience wouldn't hurt his friends.

"How are you doing, Sirius?"

While not emaciated, the man was still on the thin side. The crazed look in his eyes hadn't quite faded but Sirius was doing a better job at concealing it. His long hair was clean and his clothes while not brand new were clean as well.

"Shouldn't it be my job to worry about you, and not the other way around?"

"I'm fine."

The Dursleys were the same as ever, though more chores and less starvation. It had only been a few weeks, so that might have changed before the summer ended. His nightmares kept him awake more often than sleep, and his stomach empty, courtesy of Voldemort. And of course, he would soon be leaving everyone to go off to some strange school.

"Would you tell anyone if you weren't?"

"Probably not," he answered honestly. "Besides, you have enough worries, on the run from the Ministry as well as muggle law enforcement. You don't need to hear about my dreadful relatives."

"Not on run, so much as in hiding. With the Fidelius charm Dumbledore cast, Grimmauld is pretty secure."

"You said you hate it here."

Sirius attempted to wave off his concern. "It's just memories."

"I can see why. If I had to listen to that painting everyday, I'd hate it too. Why do you stay, though. I mean, I know you're allowing the Order to use the house for headquarters but that doesn't mean you have to spend everyday trapped in here."

"I'm still wanted by the ministry, Harry." Sirius explained. "And the muggle authorizes haven't stopped looking either. Dumbledore insists I remain here for safety sake."

"If a Death Eater can masquerade successfully as our DADA professor, as a noted Auror who is supposedly close friends with Dumbledore, why can't you, I don't know, use polyjuice potion to get you out of here for a few hours a day. I'm not saying that you shouldn't be careful but why would you trade one prison for another when you can use magic to disguise yourself and have some freedom?"

The fact that Sirius looked as if he hadn't even considered the possibility made Harry shake his head in exasperation. He had an excuse, at the Dursleys there was no way he could improve his circumstances. There was no way he would live like this voluntarily.

"If you hate this house so much, change it. Look at this place, it's gloomy and miserable. Get rid of the stuff you hate. Paint. Open the windows and allow some sunlight in. I'm sure Dumbledore could have one of the house elves find some furniture at Hogwarts that isn't being used and lend it to you since you were considerate enough to allow the Order work from here."

"I guess I didn't think about that. That's what happens when I'm back here. The memories, Harry, they seem to just swallow me up. I ran away from this place and swore I'd never return. And now I'm forced back here mostly due to my own foolhardy actions. I guess, I've been punishing myself for not doing right by you for all these years, leaving you stuck with those muggles when your father trusted me to look after you."

"I think twelve years in Azkaban is more than enough punishment, Sirius." He murmured. "At least do it for me then. I don't want to go off for the year, worrying about you suffering here trapped in your hated childhood house. I know we're on the brink of war with Voldemort's return but that's all the more reason to live while there is still a chance. You have a right to a few happy times."

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, realizing what Sirius might just be doing out of the guilt he felt for his role in Wormtail being secret keeper for his parents. "My father wouldn't want you punishing yourself for the stupidity of the wizarding world in not giving you a proper trial. He wouldn't want you punishing yourself for trusting in a best friend and being betrayed. That's like saying my parents deserved Voldemort finding them because they trusted Wormtail too."

"Everyone would be furious," Sirius chuckled, a light in his eyes now that was much better than the way he looked before. "Especially, Dumbledore."

"Isn't it funny how Dumbledore passes down commands and we all seem to just fall in line like good little soldiers without any complaint? I know he's the leader of the Order but it doesn't preclude making your own decisions about your life."

The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. Dumbledore tells his friends to basically ignore him and they do it. He insists Sirius stay trapped in this house that he has to know carries horrid memories for his godfather. Dumbledore may be the most powerful wizard but it didn't mean his decisions were infallible.

"Aren't you an adult? Tonks, your cousin, she knows a bit about the muggle world right? Even Remus should be able to get around. Emmy would probably help too."

They were also responsible and would keep a sharp eye on Sirius so that he wouldn't do anything foolish to reveal himself. "You could go to the cinema or a museum or something. The zoo even. Just get out of this house a little each day. It isn't healthy being locked inside all of the time." He should know.

And Sirius had years of horrors to heal from being in prison. Why was he the only one who suggested this? Why was no one helping him?

"I know a little about cleaning," he wanted to snort at the irony in that statement but this was about his godfather and not the way the Dursleys treated him. "And I have two weeks before I leave; we could get a lot of work done around here in that time. What do you think?"

"It will be like an exorcism," Sirius seemed to enjoy the thought of his mother being some demon he had to clean out of his house.

"Is the backyard included under the Fidelius? Maybe we could have a bonfire?"

* * *

_4_

_The Witching Hour_

With the Order meetings and cleaning, it was all too easy for time to slip away. The privacy of his own room was great but it also meant no midnight talks between he and Ron like at the Burrow. It also meant that connecting with his best friend was a lot harder. Sure they spoke at dinner and played games of chess and joked with Hermione but somehow it all seemed to be on a level that was more superficial than before.

So he wasn't surprised when Hermione cornered him and suggested they meet after the Order gathering that evening and when all the adults had gone to sleep. He chose the parlor Sirius had taken him to because it was tucked away where if they managed to get a little noisy Mrs. Weasley would be less likely to hear them.

Grimmauld Place had finally quieted down for the night a little after midnight, so he grabbed the rucksack he found in the back of the closet and cracked open the door to his bedroom. Carefully tiptoeing down the hall and descending the stairs, he found the others waiting for him.

Ginny and Hermione were in their night clothes and a robe, unavoidable since Mrs. Weasley had made sure the girls were in their rooms for the night before heading off to bed herself. He wondered if they ever tired of the stifling mothering at times. Mrs. Weasley was extremely old fashioned in her beliefs in how a girl should behave and she tended to treat Ginny as if she were eight instead of fourteen. For Hermione who would turn sixteen in September it had to be even more aggravating.

Fred and George both were still dressed from the day, probably working on some new prank item for their store. He found it hilarious how they would listen to their mother scream at them and then continue about their business as if she hadn't said a word.

Ron too had dressed for bed. No one ever had to convince Ron to go to sleep. It was waking him up that tended to cause problems.

He had dressed for bed as well, knowing he would be tired later and wouldn't want to be bothered.

"It's about time," Ron rolled his eyes, his voice just barely a whisper. "Thought you had forgotten and gone to sleep instead."

"Come on, it's this way," he led the group to the room, before slowly opening the door so they could sneak inside. A quick wave of his wand had several candles lit using a spell that he had heard Sirius use.

"Harry! You know you aren't to use magic outside of Hogwarts." Hermione looked like she was gearing up for a tongue lashing.

"Fidelius, Hermione. They couldn't detect the magic anyway," he reminded her, before going to one of the tables to open his bag. Fred and George grinned mischievously and lit the fireplace to take the chill out of the summer night. They were probably the last people who needed to know that information but they were also sneaky enough to get away with using magic without their mother finding out.

Since he had left his relatives early, there was no need for the food he had bought from the restaurant, so he decided a midnight snack would be a nice addition to this little get together.

"What's all of this then?" Ron took a spot on the couch, watching him release the charms on the food containers.

"When Remus and Emmy took me out for the day, we went to this great restaurant that served Italian food. I bought some to take back to the relatives but Remus and Emmy insisted that I come here instead, so I thought I'd share with you guys."

He didn't need to tell Ron twice, who immediately dug in, grabbing half a calzone that Harry knew was filled with lots of meat and cheese. "This is great," he nodded eagerly around a mouthful, chewing quickly so that he could eat more.

For a while, there was only the sounds of eating. When he finished off his snack, he set the container aside, dusting fallen crumbs away. "So, you guys eager about school?" He would leave first, so he had no idea when the others would depart for the schools they would attend.

"A little," Hermione shrugged. She was always ready to learn new things, so a new school was probably terribly exciting for Hermione.

"You'll have to make sure to spend equal time outside of the library as you do in it," he reminded her, making the others laugh.

"Do you think we'll get disguises like you?" Ginny asked, her enthusiasm at the idea evident.

"Well, little Harry here is," Fred started.

"More noticeable than we mere wizards are." George finished. They both added little bows of subservience to stress the teasing in their comment.

"They had to do something-"

"To cover that huge-"

"Disfiguring scar that everyone-"

"Likes to gawk and point at."

Both wiggled their eyebrows and their relaxed bantering made them all laugh. "And don't forget the hair," he pointed out, more than willing to joke at his own expense.

"Of course," they agreed in unison.

"I just wish there were some way we could keep in contact with each other." Hermione said. "The year will be so long without all of you."

"Well, I bought some journals so that I could keep track of all the stuff I wanted to tell you all when I get back."

"That's a good idea!"

Ginny didn't look very excited but he could understand her reluctance. Her experiences with Tom Riddle's diary would have turned her off anything similar.

"Do you think we'll be able to play Quidditch?" Ron's brows drew together in uncertainty. If they were returning to Hogwarts, Ron had intended to try out for the team but now that things had changed, so would those plans.

"I don't even know if the schools will have Quidditch teams." That didn't seem to reassure Ron any.

"There are more important things than Quidditch," Hermione huffed. "Is that all you care about? It's our OWL year after all! We have to revise and be prepared. These tests will affect what NEWT level classes we can take and those in turn affect what careers we will be qualified for after leaving school."

"Bill said most Professors will admit anyone with an A or better on their OWLS, though some prefer an E. But Professor Snape doesn't allow anyone with less than an O on their Potions OWL in his NEWT level class," Ginny pointed out. "A lot of jobs require a Potions NEWT, like Healers and Aurors."

He wanted to worry but the threat of Voldemort was larger than a distant future. If the dark wizard had his way, Harry wouldn't live long enough to have a career after Hogwarts. These thoughts he kept to himself, not wanting to ruin the night for everyone.

"Then aren't we lucky we don't have to deal with that greasy git this year?" Ron smiled.

"RON!"

"What Hermione," he grimaced as he rubbed the shoulder she had punched. "It's the truth."

"I certainly considered it one of the positives of this situation," he backed his best friend.

"And you shouldn't be encouraging him to be disrespectful of a professor, Harry."

"I have no problem with the truth. The truth of the matter is that if I wanted a career that needed a Potions NEWT I might as well forget it. Snape would rather the world burn around him than do me any favors."

"Maybe if you and Ron paid more attention in class, or studied a bit more, or bothered to do your work before the day it is due, he wouldn't focus on you so much." Hermione spoke with quiet firmness and a decided respect for authority that he just couldn't muster to feel for a man who insulted him every single opportunity he had.

"Let's not argue," Ginny put in, trying to forestall the impending argument.

Harry waved off the entire conversation. He knew better than to try to change Hermione's mind about anything once it was set. Snape might be an insulting git to her but she had been taught to treat teachers with respect regardless if they deserved it or not. Maybe he would be better off he had the same parenting.

"We should probably get to bed, mum will be calling us early to help with the cleaning again."

Ron shot his sister a look of contempt that Ginny simply rolled her eyes at. "Who was it that convinced Sirius to do all this cleaning anyway?"

"That would be me I'm afraid." Harry raised a guilty hand. "He hates it here and needed something to take his mind off it."

"Well, as long as you're around to help finish," Ron muttered, as he really hated the manual labor.

"I'll be here for a while longer. At least that's what Remus tells me. Dumbledore hasn't spoken to me since coming to Privet Drive."

"I heard Mum yelling right after you first arrived. What did you tell them to get everyone so riled up?" Ron asked.

"Nothing much." He really didn't want to think about how his relatives hated him at the moment.

"Well she was right furious, especially with Dumbledore. I don't think I've ever heard her yell like that before. Not even when the Twins did something wrong."

"And that's-"

"Saying something, 'un mate?" George finished for his brother.

"Doesn't matter."

But that must have angered Hermione because she said, "Nothing seems to matter much to you lately Harry. Or else, you just don't want to talk to your friends about it, anyway." It was a less than subtle dig at him and she probably expected him to lash out but he decided to do just the opposite and ignore her.

If he could ignore Snape for the most part, Hermione would be easy.

* * *

_5_

_Wind Beneath My Wings_

The cleaning of Number 12 Grimmauld place grew into an epic journey that Harry wouldn't have missed for anything in the world. It put pleasure into his godfather's face and gave him a renewed sense of purpose.

When he spoke to Remus about their endeavor, the man had rather embarrassingly admitted that he never really considered doing it despite knowing how much Sirius hated living there. He also grudgingly acknowledged that keeping a man who had been falsely imprisoned for years locked away in said hated house was wrong as well. Remus agreed to getting Sirius out for small outings occasionally and said he would speak to Tonks and Emmy about helping. Sirius was already starting to show signs of frustration from hiding away.

They would have to be careful about purchasing the ingredients for the polyjuice potion with how the Ministry was behaving but there were apothecaries out of the England they could visit. As long as they didn't buy more than one or two ingredients in the same place they should be fine. If Hermione, Ron and himself could brew polyjuice potion in the girl's bathroom in their second year, the adults should manage it without any problems.

Sirius really threw himself into the renovations, completely ignoring Mrs. Weasley's protests about destroying perfectly good things. The Weasley family wasn't a rich one and the very idea of perfectly good items going to waste was repugnant to her. She just couldn't understand the bad memories this place had for Sirius. No one who hadn't lived life with a family who hated them could understand.

It wasn't about the money, it was about finding a sense of peace where Sirius had none.

Not that Sirius had spent much money. His idea of asking Professor Dumbledore about furnishings from Hogwarts was quickly agreed on. In between Order meetings, they dragged out furniture and linen and paintings, room by room, practically stripping Grimmauld bare.

The front parlor greatly resembled the Gryffindor common room but if that made Sirius feel better who was he to complain. The library was stripped of anything dark and made a comfortable place to sit and work or read. The kitchen was made open and welcoming, which did the most to appease Mrs. Weasley's offended sensibilities. And the dining room was transformed so it could be used for large meals. The ballroom that Harry had no idea existed was transformed into a large meeting room so the Order would no longer have to cram together in the kitchen for meetings. Fred and George grumbled of course when wards were placed around the room to keep out their clever listening devices.

Their only major obstacle was the house-elf, Kreacher, who fought the hardest against the changes in the beginning. The screaming fits between the old and slightly demented house elf and his slightly demented godfather were loud and fierce. During one particularly thunderous episode, Sirius had been a second from cursing the house-elf to death before they intervened.

At first Harry couldn't believe Sirius was making such a fuss until he heard Kreacher call Hermione a filthy mudblood and Remus a dirty half-breed. Hermione had tried to calm tempers by reasoning that Kreacher was only echoing what the Black family had taught him and while the words were disgusting, the house-elf wasn't necessarily to blame. It had been trapped here in Grimmauld place for years alone with only portraits that spewed such nastiness as company.

"Fine, he'll take himself immediately to Hogwarts to work in the kitchens and stay there," Sirius agreed after Remus made the suggestion. "He is to keep himself away from everyone but the other house elves of Hogwarts and he will follow the orders given to him by the Headmaster."

"Isn't that a little mean," Hermione murmured.

"It is but unfortunately we can't give Kreacher clothes. So sending him to Hogwarts kitchens with strict orders in place is the best place for him. Would it be better for him to sneak off to tell the Malfoy boy about the Order so the boy could inform his father?" Remus reminded her. Kreacher had attempted such actions before. They had to be specific for the house-elf would find someway around following the orders Sirius gave him.

"You do recall Dobby?" Harry asked, seeing Remus' point. The former Malfoy elf had good intentions but he had been deliberately disobeying and managed to cause a great deal of problems. He didn't even want to imagine what Kreacher could do if one of Voldemort's Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself, got a hold to him.

They finished all of the work on the first floor before he had to leave and Sirius decided to celebrate with a little party, a sort of house re-warming slash going off to school thing, mostly the Weasley family and Tonks, Emmy and Remus came, other Order members dropped in for a while before heading out. Even Dumbledore came and stayed for an hour before heading back to Hogwarts to prepare for the incoming students. Mrs. Weasley thoroughly enjoyed herself cooking the large meal and someone had set up a wizarding wireless for music.

Harry sat on a couch with Sirius watching the people around him, as it became more evident that he wouldn't see them until the end of the school year. Ron was trying to talk Ginny into a game of chess, while Hermione was chastising the Twins for some prank they had played on her. Things weren't quite back to normal with his friends and he felt bad for that.

Maybe Hermione was right and they should have tried to make amends with each other. At the time, he just didn't see a resolution, he understood they were under orders from Dumbledore but that didn't change his hurt feelings. It was something he would need to work out on his own. Either way, it was too late for he left in two days and it was better to leave things as they were.

"I'm glad you convinced me to do this," Sirius took another sip from the glass of red wine Emmy had given him earlier. It was hilarious when Sirius had flirted with her, as she had returned the favor. Sirius hadn't been expecting the response and been struck silent for the first time Harry had ever seen.

Emmy on the other hand just tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a secret smile and walked away, swishing in that long peach tinted sundress that gave more than mere suggestion of curves. He had to wonder what he would find between the two of them when he returned next year if they were dancing around each other like this already.

"You're glad you could take advantage of free labor," Harry grumbled jokingly. "It looks nice here."

"I'm pleased you think so, since you'll be returning here after school ends."

That was new. "Dumbledore agreed? What about me returning to the Dursleys for the wards?"

The older man took a deep breath, setting his glass aside, before turning a piercing gaze to him. There was a clarity and maturity in those grey eyes that Harry didn't often see. "Did you honestly believe we would allow you back there after what you told Emmeline and Remus?"

"I guess I just thought Dumbledore didn't care that I came to Grimmauld early." He had fully expected to have to return to Privet Drive with his relatives.

"Not for anything in the world, kiddo. This, such as it is, is our home now. You, me and Remus. Though I wouldn't be surprised to see Tonks moving in, if she gets her way," Sirius muttered in an aside.

Someone laughed loudly, drawing their focus back to the rest of the room. Hermione had moved on from the Twins and was sitting next to Ginny, who was still ignoring Ron. The adults were all situated around the room in different conversations and for the moment, Voldemort and thoughts of war were the furthest things from their minds.

Everyone was in good spirits and Harry was pleased these were the memories he would be taking with him.


	3. Part III: Awakened and Unbound

A/N: Part III is much larger than the first two, so I'm breaking it down into sections.

Warnings: AU after GoF.

Rated: M for violence, language, adult content

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

* * *

**3**

**Awakened & Unbound**

* * *

_1  
_

_Origin_

Standing at the precipice of change, still and contemplative, Harry drew a deep breath into his lungs and tried to pretend that he wasn't nervous.

The portkey Professor Dumbledore placed in his hand had yanked him from the confines of Grimmauld place and tossed him into the midst of a forest in what felt like mere seconds. Grateful that no one else was around to witness the embarrassing moment, he climbed to his feet muttering as he dusted the grass and dirt from his clothes.

Nervous about making a good first impression, he had donned a pair of black fitted trousers tucked into sturdy boots. The accompanying black linen tunic had long sleeves that hung just over his knuckles and was trimmed in blood red Celtic protection runes at the edges. Rather than robes, he chose a simple black hooded cape. Hopefully his care wasn't for naught, as magical transport seemed to hate him.

All around him, he couldn't help but note the lack of sound. Birds and insects alike, and despite the dense thicket of trees and the lack of any life, he wasn't afraid. It wasn't like the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, no, this place felt calm, as if no danger would touch him here.

The path he appeared upon eventually led to a clearing where a quaint brick bridge extended over a wide gulf. Dense morning fog made it impossible to see to the other side. The bridge had no hand rails and couldn't have been more than ten feet wide which was plenty wide enough for him to walk over so he shouldn't have been worried. Yet he was just the same. All around him the world waited, thick with anticipation of what was to come, mirroring the nerves clenching in his belly.

"And I'm supposed to cross this," he murmured aloud. He was glad he had decided upon a light breakfast because anything heavier than the toast and tea he had would have sat like greasy nauseating weight on his stomach. And where was his Gryffindor courage this morning? He had faced Voldemort in a graveyard with only his wand and nerve, crossing a bridge should be easy.

At his first step, he noted the reddish brown bricks were dry, despite the damp in the air. He chanced a look over the edge and quickly wished he hadn't as his stomach dropped at the vision of fog and air beneath him. Girding himself with a sharp breath, he took another step and another, keeping his eyes focused firmly ahead and not on the fact that he seemed to be suspended in the air.

Mid way he felt the air stir. It gathered around him, curious, assessing, forcing him to release a breath in shock at the depth of magic that pulsed around his body.

A voice whispered in his head, melodious and feminine, _"Welcome to Swansea, Harry James Potter."_

And he felt himself pass through whatever wards protected this place from harm. Magic, warm and loving enveloped him, teasing at the edges of his senses and leaving him filled with a sense of belonging that he had only felt at Hogwarts.

The fog gradually thinned the closer he came to the other side of the bridge. The sun was creeping up the edge of the horizon, streaking the midnight blue sky with hints of pink and gold. The silence had been breached again and now he could hear the low rustle of water and the sounds of animal life. The dawn air was scented with hints of grass and mountain laurel, and most of all a rich dark soil made fertile and ready. There was the shadowy figure in the distance that he thought might have been the voice he heard. He didn't examine too closely the fact that the voice had spoken internally rather than aloud and the person was much too far away for him to hear so clearly.

If he wasn't standing here, he would never have been able to imagine such a place. Children fantasized of sights such as these, of playing at Merlin and Morgaine and the mystic isle of Avalon. Of walking the lands of Rivendell and the Elves before beginning the grand quest of the one ring. And for the next year he was to receive instruction in this wondrous land that he would have once claimed only lay in dreams.

By the time he made it to the landing, he knew the figure was that of a woman but standing before her, he could honestly say she was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her dress looked like something from centuries before, with its rich sapphire tinted velvet trimmed with golden embroidery and long bell sleeves. She wore a necklace that gleamed gold in the morning light, a fine chain that reached her chest, with a teardrop shaped charm that was as large as a baby's fist that could be mistaken for a ruby but he had never seen one so large or so vivid not even in pictures.

A wealth of rich sable hair tumbled in graceful waves down her back almost to her waist. She had a quiet oval shaped face, the bones delicately carved and skin that glowed with pale gold undertones. A full rosy mouth was curved into a gentle smile of welcome. But it was her eyes that stopped his heart. They were the same green as his. Exactly the same. He noticed because so many people liked to remark how he looked like his father but had his mother's eyes and yet here was this woman, a virtual stranger who had the same eyes as the ones he saw in the mirror each morning. The same color. The same shape.

Exactly the same.

He decided to ignore it for now, a coincidence of fate perhaps, but something to explore later on seeing as she made no indication that she had noticed their unique similarity.

"Good morning, Evan Hawthorne."

The name still felt unfamiliar, unwieldy but Remus had told him that it would take time to become accustomed to it. The three of them had agonized over names for a great deal longer than necessary. For Emmy the choice was simple, just pick something and get it done. Yet he had wanted something of his parents even if he couldn't keep his name.

Remus felt it was better to disassociate himself from any that remind someone of Harry Potter and that included a name that might bring to mind his father given how much they resembled each other. It was Emmy who suggested using his mother's maiden name. At first he had argued that it was too obvious but Remus had countered with the fact that Evan was common enough not to draw attention.

The family name was a fluke. He had seen the row of books on Emmy's shelf by Nathaniel Hawthorne and figured it was as far away from Potter as he was likely to get.

"Good morning," he managed to offer in return despite his disquiet. It was curious that she didn't bear the same voice that had spoken in his head. Hers was low, soft and clear, while the other had been like silken oak. He had never heard of wards being sentient and capable of speech.

"I am Headmistress Dwyn Yvaine of Valmont Academy and I've been expecting you. I'm here to escort you to the school grounds. I thought perhaps I would have to traverse the bridge to retrieve you, as most are reluctant to trust in such a path. Given your reputation, I should have known better."

"You know?"

A discreet nod told him that she did in fact know he was truly Harry Potter. "I received a visitor early one June morning who explained that two students of his would need to attend the Academy due to unforeseen circumstances. Two of his more promising students."

So Dumbledore had explained things, which made sense if he was transferring schools in the middle of his education, especially so close to OWLS.

Wait a moment.

"Students? As in more than one?"

Was it possible that Ron or Hermione could be here? That would be wonderful!

"Come." She placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "Let us discuss things inside where we can be more comfortable. You and Mr. Prince have many things to accomplish this afternoon if you wish to be prepared for classes when they start on Monday."

Prince? That told him nothing of the other Hogwarts student identity. There were no students with the family name Prince who attended Hogwarts. Then he felt rather foolish. If he was here under an assumed name, it only made sense that the other student would be as well.

He didn't expect the walk to the school grounds to be as difficult as it was. Headmistress Yvaine led him up a set of steps that climbed up into a mountain. He would have hated to make this trip in the winter when there was cold and snow to battle.

By the time his legs were burning from strain, they walked into a small gatehouse. He was winded and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face. The Headmistress on the other hand looked just as cool and collected as she had when they first started. She must have taken this path many times over the years of her tenure at Valmont and was accustomed to it. It was a sad sign to just how out of shape he was and he had thought climbing the stairs of Hogwarts was strenuous.

"This is Val Hall," she spoke up, waving a hand at the airy gatehouse. There were slender white columns connecting the dome shaped roof but no windows. The floor was a stonewashed granite and against one wall was a huge fireplace that he guessed students could floo in. "It's used for students to arrive who have previously attended Valmont. New arrivals must be accepted through the wards of Swansea first, that's why you were met at the bridge."

"Is that the voice I heard?"

"She spoke to you then," she smiled softly. "I had wondered if she would."

Great, the last thing he needed was to stand out. "Who is she?"

"Swansea of course," she gestured all around her. "Swansea is the name of this entire Vale, from the forests and hills to the rivers and lakes. From Swansea there was the village built and then came Valmont when the people who lived here needed a place for their children to learn. Over the years we began extending invitations to other children to attend Valmont but only a select few."

"You speak as though Swansea is sentient?" He had never heard of such a thing. There was speculation that Hogwarts was partially sentient given the magic that dwelled in the castle and the grounds, even the magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest but never had Hogwarts actually spoken to him.

A frown creased her brow, "Your Headmaster didn't speak to you of Swansea?"

"Not really," he shrugged, "He just said that Valmont was an excellent school with wards as powerful as Hogwarts and I would be safe here."

"I see," she answered very slowly. "Perhaps it is best to simply show you."

She took his hand and led him through the gatehouse to another landing and he almost groaned at the thought of climbing even more stairs. That was before his eyes were greeted with the most astounding sight he had ever beheld in his life. He couldn't halt his slow gasp, or the way his mouth dropped open in amazement.

Slowly his eyes traveled, taking in the expanse of the valley. There were trees, majestic evergreen, strong fir, beech and oak. He even noted some rowan and yew. The river he had only heard was now clearly seen, flowing gently westward and he could see different homes and gardens overlooking it. There were different small waterfalls that fed into the river, though further down, he though he saw a great one that fed into a lake.

Valmont had literally been built into the sides of the mountains forming exquisite multi-level structures built of stone.

"It's incredible," he turned to her with a grin.

"Yes, it is," she agreed with one of her own. "I might be mildly biased. I was born here; I lived in the village and attended Valmont. It's been my home for all of my life. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. It was a great honor when I was chosen to be Headmistress."

She led him upward again but they stopped at the first structure. "These are the offices of the Professors and workers here at Valmont. There are gathering rooms on the second floor where meetings are generally held. If you're having difficulties, you'll probably be summoned to one of them. There is also a library but it mostly for use by our staff. If you should need something from it, you'll need a Professor's signature for admittance. That's where we shall be meeting your classmate."

"You didn't say what was so important about Swansea," Evan remembered as they made their way down the hall.

"Swansea is an isle of sanctuary. Not like other places that you might have heard of, such as Dragon preserves. They are admirable in their efforts to keep the magical creatures of our world safe and provide a dwelling for them. But no, Swansea is one of few places where creature and human live together in symbiosis. Swansea is one of the last of her kind."

"We're on an island?" She gave him a small nod of affirmation. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Ireland. The Celtic Sea to be precise. Over time legend spread of an isle where magical creatures and wizard lived harmoniously, contradictory to how they were perceived by the magical community. Two brothers, Banadel and Gwynfor Yvaine, were curious and decided to seek out this alleged haven. After two weeks at sea searching the different islands, their vessel was caught in a violent storm. Two days passed before they wrecked on an island that shouldn't have been where it was. It was said the magic of Swansea was testing their worth, before granting permission for their landing."

"What happened to the two brothers?"

"They remained here on the isle for five years, learning and becoming one with Swansea. An account of their findings was presented to a select group at the 1269 International Warlock Convention but they returned to Swansea to live out the remainder of their lives."

"Wait, you said they were Yvaine. You're an Yvaine, right. Does that mean you're related?"

"Yes, I am a descendant of the Gwynfor Yvaine, the youngest brother."

* * *

_2_

_Reunion_

The library wasn't much larger than a Hogwarts classroom but there were bookcases from floor to ceiling lined with books of all kind. The room was settled much like a personal den rather than a school library. On one of the tables was a full tea service scenting the air with something aromatic with hints of lemon. Seated on one of the couches was a blond male drinking quietly from a cup.

"We're back, Mr. Prince," the Headmistress announced their presence. When the other turned and stood, there really was no mistaking the fact that the other Hogwarts student was Draco Malfoy.

A swath of tawny-gold hair fell casually on his forehead rather than his usual platinum slicked back hair and his eyes burned a brilliant cerulean rather than gray he had inherited. At a closer look, the differences were more than just cosmetic. Malfoy just months ago, had been a pointy little git, his features the sharp echo of his father. This one's face had a more aristocratic bearing. It reminded him of his godfather, Sirius, as a matter of fact. There was no denying the fact that this Malfoy was very good looking.

"What are you doing here?" It slipped out before he had the chance to censor himself. Malfoy gave one of his usual smirks that made his blood heat with anger.

What the hell had Dumbledore been thinking when he sent Draco Malfoy of all people to school with him?

"Possibly for the same reason you're here. I would think it rather obvious."

"Gentlemen," the kind voice from before was missing this time, and when he looked at the Headmistress there was no mistaking the no-nonsense glare that was oddly reminiscent of Professor McGonagall. "I am sensing some enmity between the two of you. I'm going to check in at my office for a few minutes and give you an opportunity to resolve whatever issues there may be so that we may continue with our orientation."

The _or else_ portion of that statement went unsaid but was understood nonetheless.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask. All of them inappropriate and none of his business but it didn't halt his curiosity. Draco Malfoy, Death Eater in waiting, wasn't cozened up to Voldemort preparing to start the next Wizarding world civil war? After all the times he had called Hermione a mudblood, or Ron a blood traitor? What could he have possibly said to Dumbledore to have convinced the man of his sincerity?

"You're probably wondering why I'm here with you and not the Weasel or Granger."

"Do you have to be insulting?" They were supposed to be coming to an understanding, riling his temper wasn't the best way to go about achieving that.

"I didn't say mudblood."

"Yes, that's right. Mudblood. That is what you believe muggle-borns to be, right?" But he would hold his council for a while longer. "So what are you doing here?"

"You could ask politely. I really don't have to explain myself to you." Malfoy's lips twisted into a cynical sneer.

"You do if you don't want me to hex your arse back to the rock you climbed from under." He watched Malfoy's eyes as they flickered from his face, down to his hand that was already itching to free his wand.

"Headmistress Yvaine would probably frown upon such an action. She did, after all, leave us here to resolve our issues."

"I'm not the one with issues," he retorted.

"No, of course not. The Golden Boy is never wrong, no instead he's just an arrogant prick." It was the first honest emotion he had witnessed from the blond and he preferred it to that phony mask he greeted them with.

"You're calling me arrogant? You?"

"Yes, you. I'm not the one who walked into the room demanding answers. I'm not the one making threats. If you took a moment to actually think before opening your mouth and allowing your stupidity to spew forth, perhaps I might be inclined to explain why Dumbledore sent me here!"

He barely held back the flinch of guilt. Merlin, Malfoy was right. He'd rather have Voldemort curse him with than admit it aloud but he couldn't deny it to himself. There were all kinds of excuses he could make but it wouldn't change the fact that he had attacked Malfoy first and with virtually no provocation.

"Sorry." He managed through gritted teeth. It didn't matter that Malfoy was a git and set his nerves on edge. The apology was deserved.

Smug delight spread across Malfoy's face. "What was that? You're actually-"

"Don't push it," he interrupted the ponce before he could continue. It was probably best to stop mentally insulting him as well. "I would like to know why Dumbledore sent you here. Please." Because he knew he wasn't getting the explanation without a little groveling.

"Fine, since you asked politely." Malfoy waved him over to the couch and waited until they were both seated before beginning his explanation.

"When I returned home from Hogwarts, my father was waiting for me in the parlor. The Slytherins knew something was going on during the Tournament. Our parents had grown increasingly cautious over the course of the year. When you came back with Diggory's body screaming about the Dark Lord's return, there was no doubt in our minds that you were telling the truth."

"Wish the ministry were that smart."

"The ministry is full of idiots more concerned with lining their pockets than the truth."

"And you would know," he sneered. Lucius Malfoy had lined more than one pocket to get what he wanted. But he gestured for Malfoy to continue.

"My father was pleased, the Dark Lord had returned and requested all the children of his followers to be present at their next gathering. Needless to say, I wasn't as excited."

Malfoy who had parroted back his father's feelings about muggles and muggle-borns wasn't eager to sign over his life to Voldemort? He found that hard to believe.

"My mother, in fact, was furious that my father would even consider such a thing. My mother refused to sacrifice more people she loved to the Dark Lord. Her sister was practically insane before she was shipped off to Azkaban. Father barely escaped prosecution. She would not allow her son to follow in their footsteps. They argued, it was horrific really."

This was said more as an afterthought, his voice drifting off at the end as he seemed to turn inward to his memories for those few seconds. When he spoke again, the words were carefully measured.

"My parents love each other yet this one thing was tearing them apart. I don't know who would have won if it had continued on. My mother pointed out what would happen to our family if the Dark Lord fell again this time. No one understands why you defeated him as an infant, and now you're," he paused as if sickened by what he was about to say.

"You're you. Damsel rescuing, Parselmouth, dragon outwitting, Tri-Wizard Tournament wining, you! There was no guarantee that the Dark Lord would win and our family would be destroyed in the process."

"So you decided to cover your ass, is that it?" Now this he didn't find hard to believe.

Malfoy looked at him a long time and he could see a muscle working in his jaw. "No."

And suddenly, he didn't want to know what happened. Not if it could make Malfoy look like that. Despite everything, he knew what the Slytherin was going to say. It was right there in the depths of those blue eyes and had been all along. He had just been too wrapped up in his own feelings to have seen it.

"He killed my mother." Malfoy tried to sound unaffected but Evan could see the signs of grief that reached beyond his mask of propriety.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know much about Narcissa Malfoy and he disliked Draco but that didn't mean he couldn't feel compassion for the other's situation. This was still his mother who had been murdered by his own father.

"I'm sorry for your loss." And the words sounded so empty and useless but at least Malfoy understood they were sincere, for he nodded once in acceptance. "What did you do?"

"I renounced my family name." He said quickly, like it would change what had happened. "I watched Lucius kill my mother, because of the Dark Lord and I wanted no part of what was being demanded of me. If Lucius could kill my mother, and they loved each other, what would the Dark Lord require me to do? This was my mother and father. I know how they felt about me, and about our family and Lucius struck her down as if she were no more important to him than a flobberworm for a potion. It was just that callous."

"How did you get away?"

"Lucius was furious but the wards of the Manor are very specific and they ejected me before he could react. I had nothing, just my trunks from school, my wand, and the few galleons that I had leftover from my monthly allowance. I had no where to go, no one I could trust and I knew if my fat-, if _Lucius_ found me, he would kill me. Once that magic is invoked, it can't be taken back. I couldn't go to my friends; I no longer had a family. So, I went to Dumbledore."

He knew that's how Malfoy was able to be here but hearing all of this was still unbelievable.

"Dumbledore is a big proponent of forgiveness but I know he wouldn't have sent you here just on your word alone." Not with everything that was going on.

"You're right. First thing Dumbledore did was summon Professor Snape. I thought I was dead because I know our head of house is a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's inner circle. Then he had Professor Snape give me Veritaserum."

"That had to be horrible." Thinking Snape was going to take him away to be killed at any moment after spilling all of his secrets under truth serum.

"It was only after I swore a Unbreakable Vow of Loyalty that he explained that Professor Snape was a spy. I had to vow to help protect you and do everything in my power to help you and help keep you safe. I stand at your side, the shield to your sword, the blade of your dagger."

The words sounded very ceremonial and he had no doubt that Draco had probably used those exact words. It was true, however, as his magic instinctively responded to the Vow. "I don't know if I like how that sounds. I definitely don't need a bodyguard shadowing me."

"I'm not here to be your guard. I'm here to fight at your side."

"Well, I don't need that either! That's what my friends are for! You know the ones you insult every time you get a chance." And he was so furious. How could Dumbledore think Malfoy could ever replace Ron and Hermione?

"Then why aren't they here!" Draco yelled, his own temper sparking. "This isn't the time for Weasley to be distracting you with Quidditch and his laziness or Granger to be alternately domineering and mothering."

"That's not how they are! You have no right to speak about them that way! They have been there with me through everything."

"And they will be there still." He took a sharp breath, to calm down and then held his hands out in peace before he started again. "Look, I'm going to say something and I'm only going to say it once. If you ever ask, I'll deny I ever said it, let alone even thought it and curse you for a liar."

That had him gaping in shock. What on earth was Draco admitting now?

"You're a powerful wizard." And that made Evan snort in amusement. "Shut up you idiot. I know what I'm speaking of. You're a powerful wizard. Extremely powerful. And I've watched you _squandering_ this amazing gift you've been given all for the sake of being, _average_," he spat the last word out as if it tasted foul and offensive.

"I haven't done anything to make you believe that."

"You've watched me just as much as I've watched you, so you know what I'm saying I truly believe. You know I'm not lying." And he wasn't because he could read the sincerity in Draco's eyes. "So shut up and hear me because this needs to be said."

"Fine. Finish it. But I know I'm not squandering anything."

"I don't know why you do it. At first I thought it was sheer indolence but I watched you perform in the Tri-Wizard Tournament under pressure and you proved you're capable of great things. You competed with wizards and a witch three years your senior and out performed them in the end. That isn't something to be taken lightly."

He didn't like discussing the Tournament, mostly because of how Cedric was murdered. It tended to make everything else seem unimportant. "I had help, I didn't do it all alone."

"But then I see you slacking off with Weasel," Draco continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Or begging Granger to read an essay for class and it came to me. You were holding yourself back to keep them as friends."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Oh, it's true and you can deny it all you like but I think deep inside you know I'm right."

"And wouldn't that be a first." Draco rolled his eyes at his attempt at distraction.

"And of course there are all the rumors that float around the school at the end of each year that end with you in the infirmary, winning massive points for your house or receiving a special award to the school. I especially like the one about you casting a corporal patronus that can chase off a hundred dementors. I bet Weasel had nothing to do with that."

"Shut up and stop calling him that," he muttered, not wanting to listen anymore as an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach began to make him feel bad. This was sounding a lot like Remus' words to him and if he trusted Remus words for truth then there had to be some honesty in what Draco was saying now. He just wasn't ready to hear it, at least not from this git.

"Didn't you wonder why Dumbledore didn't send the Golden Trio off together?"

"It was for safety issues."

The pity in his eyes didn't help. "He separated you, so you would stop depending so much on Granger's intelligence and start utilizing your own. So that you wouldn't have the distraction of Weasel and would concentrate on your studies. Dumbledore gave you the opportunity to be someone else because he understood the weight of a name. He sent you way from your friends so those small bursts of magnificence can become common place instead of mere luck."

What could he say to that? It echoed much of what everyone had told him. "And what is your place then?"

"I'm your rival Harry. We excel at pushing each other beyond our limitations. That's my duty here. We just have to get past the anger so it doesn't hinder our progress."

"Dumbledore told you that?" Because Draco certainly wouldn't have come up with that. All he got for an answer was another roll of those blue eyes. Of course Dumbledore had told him this.

A rival. He thought carefully over Draco's words. He had long become accustomed to doing the bare minimum as a result of living with his relatives. If he did better than Dudley, he was normally punished with being locked in his cupboard with no food. So he had learned to stifle his potential.

At Hogwarts, he had continued down this same path. He loved magic, and most of the time performing spells and charm came easy to him after a little practice. Sure he was horrible at potions but he knew that was in large part of his not trying to do well and his reactions to Snape. If Ron wanted to skive off, he could put off work and simply do it at the last minute. Hadn't he taken Divination for an easy grade because Ron suggested it?

And he knew he allowed Ron a lot of leeway because Ron was his very first friend. That's not to imply Ron didn't deserve it because Ron had proven himself to be a good friend.

And Hermione was, well, Hermione. He didn't mind her know it all attitude and he knew he relied on her book smarts more than he should.

That was their dynamic and now it seemed Dumbledore wanted to change all of it.

With Draco.

Perhaps they were all right and he needed to start doing better. And maybe with him around, he was holding Ron and Hermione back. If he wasn't always using Hermione to help with his work, what could she have already learned? And if Ron didn't have him to mess around with, or Hermione to help him with his work, would he have been forced to do better? Would there have been any cause for the jealousy of this past year or would Ron have found his own place without being in the shadow of the Boy Who Lived?

"Fine. I'm willing to give this rivals thing a chance if you are." It didn't necessarily mean he was ready to trust him though. Draco would have to earn that. He nodded in agreement, then stuck out his hand in introduction. It was a echo of what Draco had done their first year of Hogwarts. "Evan Jacob Hawthorne."

A warm hand slipped into his to grip firmly. A small genuine smile touched his lips. "Alexei Hydrus Prince. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."


	4. Part III: Con't

Warnings: AU after GoF.

Rated: M for violence, language, adult content

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

Summary: With the Ministry of Magic against him and Voldemort seeking his death, Harry Potter knew his only hope was to leave everything he had come to love and seek sanctuary in another land.

What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined.

What he found would help him win a war.

* * *

_3_

_Portrait_

"I'm pleased to see the two of you have settled your differences."

Alexei rose in one fluid motion in deference to the Headmistress's entrance into the room. His own jolting start was a lot less graceful.

"Thank you for giving us the opportunity to do so, Headmistress," Alexei said.

Evan had to force himself not to become annoyed at the tone. It would have been a bad way to begin their truce. For even as he didn't like the formal pompous way it sounded, he knew it was the proper response given the Headmistress' pleased smile.

He didn't understand why things like that made him react so badly. There was even Ron's voice in his head making fun of Alexei for it. Had he really picked up on so much of Ron's attitude? It was disquieting to realize he couldn't tell if the reaction was due to his personal dislike or if he was mimicking Ron's dislike for Alexei. The Dursleys couldn't be blamed for this either, for if they had even attempted to sound like Alexei just then, it would have be laughable not irritating.

"Yes, thank you Headmistress," He murmured.

Just who had he become over the past four years? There were things he was beginning to notice that he didn't like very much. If he wasn't happy as Harry Potter, then what would he do? Who would he shape Evan Hawthorne into now that he didn't have Harry Potter's influences and experiences to prejudice him? And more importantly, what would happen with those changes once they returned to Hogwarts? It was all very confusing.

The Headmistress gestured them to sit back down and settled herself in a chair across from them. A quick wave of her wand banished the tea service and then brought a large stack of papers forth. The stack first divided in half settling between them and then into several smaller stacks. "This is paperwork that will go in your files that we will go over first and then show you to the student housing and allow you to settle in. Before that, I'll start by telling you a little more about Valmont and how your days will be spent here. Do you have any questions before I begin?"

Seeing they had none, she nodded. "Valmont Academy was founded in 1274 by the Village Council of Swansea. As I've already informed you both, Swansea is one of the few remaining magical creature sanctuaries remaining in the Wizarding world and our curriculum here at Valmont reflects this. It is a valley rich in magic and history and though we do interact with the rest of the world, Swansea is also very cloistered and this is mostly by choice.

It is the duty of those who dwell here to protect the creatures that live beside us. This is the first tenant of Valmont, being respectful of all who reside here in Swansea. Those found breaking this rule will be reprimanded severely. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Classes take place in the center towers and sometimes in the forests as well. Your professors will notify you of the hours they are available for consult. Each new student is assigned an Adviser when they start Valmont. You will be notified of your first meeting of the year sometime during the first week of classes. Your Adviser is there to help you, whether it is with difficulties in classes or personal issues. Please do not hesitate to take advantage of their assistance."

This was usually the role the Head of House took at Hogwarts. Would his Adviser be like Professor McGonagall or Merlin forbid, like Snape. Wouldn't it be horrible to have escaped one slimy git only to trade for another?

"Our temple for meditation and guidance is near the eastern wall. What faith you believe in is entirely your own but know the temple is always available for your needs. Visits to the village are scheduled for the third Saturday of each month for all students of Valmont. However students who are fifteen and older are allowed to visit as their personal time dictates."

"We don't need a signed permission form?" Evan asked, remembering his own troubles of going to Hogsmeade.

"Your attendance here at Valmont implies consent. This privilege shall be revoked however if it abused. Most of our students rarely find the time to visit the village before the scheduled visits anyway. You'll discover you have very little free time as the year progresses."

"Is there a uniform?" Alexei asked.

"Yes, for classes, each day you will be required to wear a uniform that you can purchase at _Bobbins, Thimbles & Haberdashery_ in the Village. You'll find the attire for Valmont is very different from the hats and robes required at Hogwarts. You should note, at supper, students are required to dress in appropriate evening wear. The shop has a wide selection available to men for additions or replacement to your wardrobe. Also, the last Sunday of each month formal dress robes are required, as the Lord and Lady of Swansea visit Valmont to dine with us."

"Lord and Lady?" Evan interrupted.

"Our rulers. It is a tradition established at Valmont's initiation and the students always look forward to the visits. It's quite festive, there is music and dancing and other entertainments. Don't worry; you will learn more about them later."

He bought a lot of clothes during his shopping expedition, and he was relieved considering Dumbledore hadn't informed him of this. Perhaps the man didn't know. It would take some getting used to, as they didn't have such occasions at Hogwarts. The only formal event he had ever been to was the Yule ball. The closest thing Britain had to a Lord and Lady was the Minister of Magic and Fudge didn't think it was necessary to waste his valuable time concerned about the students of Hogwarts, not unless he thought they were a threat to him personally.

"This afternoon I'll escort you on a tour of the school grounds and we'll travel to the village to obtain your supplies. Any questions so far?"

Again he couldn't think of anything yet and evidently neither could Alexei, so she was able to continue. "Our day here at Valmont begins at five thirty."

"Five-thirty!" Alexei choked out, appalled at the very idea of waking at such an obscene hour.

"Why so early?" Not even at the Dursleys where each day could bring an impossible amount of chores, had he been forced to wake so early.

"Each student is assigned duties here in the castle. Unlike Hogwarts, Valmont isn't solely dependent upon Brownies. Our students are given chores to complete in addition to their school work. Our Novice years are typically assigned duties in the late afternoon or early evening while the more complex tasks are reserved for our older students, which include both of you."

"Are Brownies House Elves?" he asked.

"Yes, what we call Brownies, you in Britain chose to call House Elves."

"I don't- I've never," Alexei stuttered and Evan didn't need to be a seer to understand that Alexei had probably never done a chore in his life. He probably couldn't imagine doing menial labor.

"Don't worry, you will have help. We group our students here accordingly in chores, lessons and room assignments. Novice students would be your first through third years. Intermediate would be fourth and fifth years. Advanced, sixth and seventh. We also have apprentices for eighth years but they reside in a different part of the school and you will probably only see them during meal hours."

"But why chores?"

"It teaches responsibility and respect, Mr. Prince. Tasks for Intermediate students typically include kitchen duty, tending the gardens and greenhouses and care of the stables and the animals within." Alexei's eyes had widened with each job the Headmistress listed. She seemed rather amused with his reaction.

"We teach life lessons as well as magic here. We are not merely educating your minds; we are grooming you into responsible adults. How can you respect a Brownie if you've never walked a day in their life? How can you be appreciative of the food you eat, if you've never tended a field? How can you be kind to the animals that pull your carriage if you never cared for them after they labor for you?"

"A philosophy that Hogwarts should probably adopt," Evan muttered much to the amusement of the Headmistress.

"Oh and why is that?"

"Well, it's just the Wizarding world seems to take so many things for granted. I've never cleaned a stable but those other chores are things I've done most of my life. And no offense, but the majority of the students at Hogwarts would probably have reacted the same way Alexei did or worse because they think such labor is beneath them. It's practically unheard of to do much of anything without magic involved, so how can they respect anyone who doesn't or the people who perform that menial labor for them. Or even those who don't have the magic to do them."

Alexei looked contemplative as if he were truly considering his words. Even while they were talking, though he had decided not to join the Voldemort, it wasn't because he had an epiphany about his beliefs regarding muggles and muggle-borns. So understanding House Elves was next to impossible for the pure-blood.

The Headmistress just looked pleased that at least one of them understood the reasoning behind the schools procedures.

"Older students typically begin their duties at six am and end at eight. Breakfast starts at seven. Morning classes begin each day at nine, with lunch starting at noon until one. If you're required to help with afternoon meals, your schedule will reflect the time block from eleven until one thirty. Afternoon classes begin at two pm and last until five in the evening. If you are scheduled for supper service, your classes will end at four-thirty and you will be on duty until seven."

"Are the classes similar to those at Hogwarts?" Their days already sounded so complicated and it hadn't started.

"For the most part. We do offer the basic magical courses of Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. You will find Potions has been combined with the courses Herbology and Healing. OWL year classes are quite different from the first four years, as you will learn from your instructors. We offer Divination and Astronomy, as well as Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Our History of the World covers both magical and muggle societies, so we don't offer a muggle studies course."

"Are Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes elective courses?"

"Students are tested for affinity for Divination in their first year, otherwise they aren't admitted. Arithmancy could be considered an elective course, as it isn't mandatory but most students do take the introductory course in their third year to familiarize themselves with some of the basic concepts. Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes are mandatory classes."

"I've never taken Ancient Runes," Evan pointed out.

"Neither have I. I am currently enrolled in Care of Magical Creatures as well as Arithmancy."

"And I'm taking Divination."

"Really? Albus didn't mention that you had ability when we spoke."

Evan felt foolish for having to admit he had signed up for the course because Ron claimed it was easy. He spent the past two years making up tragic misfortunes to befall him and barly had any understanding of what the course was about. "Our Professor wasn't exactly talented."

"She was a fraud who should have been fired years ago," Alexei snorted.

"Professor Isleen Larkin is our Divination instructor. I'm sure she would be willing to test you, if you're interested in continuing the class."

Should he take this opportunity to drop the class now? He was going to be behind his other classmates in Ancient Runes as he struggled to get to a fifth year level. "Alright." Then he frowned, as he hadn't been ready to agree nor disagree. What difference did it make in the long run anyway? The professor would test him, he would fail and that would be the end of it.

"As for Ancient Runes, I will arrange a tutor to help you catch up for the first term and you can join your regular classes after the winter break ends."

"Will it be possible to cover two and a half years of work in one term?" Alexei asked.

"Preliminary OWL testing takes place just before Winter break. It is our way of ensuring our students are on task for the tests in the spring. Here we will be able to discover how much you have learned. If necessary we can post pone your OWL exam until late summer."

"That's acceptable." Alexei agreed.

"As for your other courses."

"Others! There are more?" Evan blurted out, actually horrified at the thought of even more work. His schedule would already be full with the addition of Ancient Runes. He would be just as worn out as Hermione had been third year.

"The schedules are demanding and we expect our students to live up to the standards of excellence that Valmont has set. We stress to the students the importance of proper time management skills."

Something he definitely lacked, Evan thought.

"Valmont has a physical component each student is required to take twice a week. You have your choice of disciplines in archery, swordsmanship, and riding. You should be aware we have several clubs for each in case you are interested in further developing one skill, or if you wished to take one as a class and join the club for another."

"So I could take swordsmanship as a class and join the riding club."

Her mouth pursed thoughtfully as she considered his question. "I would only suggest that if you have some experience in riding already. I don't recommend trying to learn too many things at once. There is also the required preparatory class for our students that start in their fourth year twice a week."

"Preparatory class?" He was confused. What did that class teach? It certainly wasn't offered at Hogwarts, at least not that he had heard of.

"Our preparatory classes are instruction in things like culture, etiquette, law, and other important lessons a child needs as they enter the world of adults."

"They don't offer that at Hogwarts," he said. "Have you ever heard of preparatory classes, Alexei?"

The blond was silent, thinking, as if he really didn't want to say. "Evan," he began cautiously. "These are things that most children are taught at home. Offering these lessons as classes is simply a way to ensure that those who aren't educated have the opportunity to learn."

At first he thought Alexei meant these were classes offered to muggle-borns but given the isolation of Swansea, there couldn't be that many muggle-born children here unless they were invited to attend Valmont. No, what Alexei meant was that the children of affluent pure-blood families had these lessons at home. So he wouldn't have heard about these lessons from the Weasleys because they weren't a wealthy family.

Sure they were taught proper manners, though sometimes you couldn't tell that by Ron, and even Wizarding culture but not like Alexei. The Weasleys didn't move in the same circles as the wealthy pure-blood families.

If he had spent more time with Sirius, it might have come up but then Sirius was so violently opposed to anything regarding his family that he would have rebelled against Evan learning about culture and etiquette classes out of pure spite.

He wanted to disregard the class as nothing more than pure-blood rhetoric but there were so many reasons not to. Perhaps if he had been exposed to Wizarding culture, he wouldn't have felt so awkward dancing at the Yule Ball the year before. Or he would feel more comfortable in the Wizarding world and less like an awed tourist who is always shocked to learn something new. He never wanted to lose his wonder of magic but he did want to fit in more.

Headmistress Yvaine paused as if she remembered, "I should remind you that Astronomy and Divination are both offered in the evenings. Saturdays are generally free from classes, though you might want to work on Ancient Runes during that time. At least for a few hours during the day. Sundays are always free for students with no classes and no work duties assigned. You will receive your schedule Saturday morning at breakfast. I have your supply lists, so you can purchase all of your supplies later today. Questions?"

At their negative reply, she gestured to the papers before them. "You'll find here papers that will need to be completed for your files. Pay careful attention to the medical forms. At some point during this term, you will be expected to make an appointment to visit our Healer in the infirmary to receive a basic exam for the year."

* * *

_4_

_Creation_

The tour of the class towers went well. Each of the classrooms was large and spacious and especially tailored to suit the needs of the subject being taught. Each subject had three professors, one for the Novice years, Intermediate and the Advanced students though most professors taught more than one subject.

His favorites were strangely the Herbology Potions Healing room on the first floor, more commonly called the HPH laboratory and not so strange, the Defense Against the Dark Arts studio located on the second floor.

The HPH laboratory was nothing like the dungeons back at Hogwarts. There was proper lighting and various windows for ventilation. The room seemed more like a modern science laboratory but still felt very much like a potions class with its different shelves of potions ingredients and fresh growing plants near the back of the class. There was even a small library for books that focused primarily on the brewing of potions, herbology and healing texts to supplement the ones they would use in class.

In the process of gaping at his surroundings, they learned they would have classes once a week in the greenhouses and once a month in the infirmary. It was only the Advanced years who had more time in the infirmary as they prepared for NEWTS.

The rationale was for many potions they would learn each stage, from source to production to possible usage. It was a far more comprehensive approach to learning and Evan could appreciate it. He was a tactile learner so he knew he would do better with a more hands on approach. Of course it would help not having his professor sneering at him and calling him an idiot or a dunderhead every five minutes.

In the DADA classroom, the desks were arranged in a u-shape with the Professor's desk in the center, making for a more personal learning environment. There was a raised dueling platform near the rear of the classroom, so he knew there would be plenty of practical instruction to go along with the theoretical aspect.

The other classrooms were similar, incorporating an intimate atmosphere for learning since the class size would be so small. Care of Magical Creatures was the sole class that would take place entirely outdoors just like at Hogwarts. Astronomy classes were held in the high tower and Evan was shocked to see the very modern equipment that had been adapted for the magical environment. Alexei couldn't believe the size and power of the telescope the Headmistress showed them. When he learned that muggles had ones that were bigger and even better, it was definitely an eye opening experience.

From there the tour took them to the grounds which were amazing. He wouldn't mind helping to maintain such vivid and beautiful flora. Eventually they made their way to the student houses where the Headmistress left them again briefly after an introduction to the Heads. They would meet up at one to go into the village.

"I'm Shannon Murray and this is my brother Gareth and we're the Head of the Intermediate years House. If you have any problems or questions, please feel free to come see us. My room is located in the wing with the girls and Gareth is with you boys. We both share an office here in the common room."

Shannon and Gareth were obviously siblings with their red hair and blue eyes and Irish lilt. Gareth seemed a quiet sort, with the muscle and breadth of a man accustomed to physical labor, while Shannon was petite, and rounded with a playful personality that shone through her eyes.

"Feel free to come see me if you have any difficulties, boys. If I'm not in my office, just leave a note and I'll come see you as soon as I can. It was a pleasure to meet you both." She bid them farewell, as a pair of girls entered the room obviously looking for her.

Gareth gave them the tour of the Intermediate years House which was an expansive wing in the residential structure. The 'House' had three floors with the main level as a common room with furniture that urged it's occupant to be at ease, a study area, walls lined with bookcases and a huge fireplace that would provide a warm cozy atmosphere when the weather grew cold.

"The girl's hall is to the left and boys on the right. The second floor is for fourth years and fifth years are above them."

Gareth took them upstairs where there were three doors. "These are the fifth year rooms. Each unit contains two bedrooms, a small sitting area and a shared bath. There are cabinets that can be charmed to cold boxes for snacks or drinks. Including you and Evan, there are only six wizards on this floor."

"So, we'll be sharing," Alexei asked.

"I thought since you were familiar with each other, you might prefer to share."

That might have been reasonable if it were Ron, but he didn't know how he felt about sharing a room with Alexei for a year. Though they agreed to attempt to have a better relationship, it wasn't the same as sharing personal space with someone who had belittled, ridiculed and outright insulted him on a near daily basis back when they were at Hogwarts.

"That might be best," Alexei surprised him by agreeing. He knew it was mostly due to Dumbledore's influence. Alexei might deny it but he was pretty sure that Dumbledore had subtly hinted that Alexei should keep an eye on him.

"Girls are not allowed on the boys' floor for any reason and vice versa. The first floor is for communal gatherings. Curfew for the Intermediate students is 10 p.m. You have no lights off curfew, as the novice years do, but be aware that you must be downstairs to leave for your duties by five-thirty a.m. There are very few exceptions. This makes you accountable for your sleep habits. By this age, we assume you are mature enough to make responsible choices."

He might have been used to waking early at the Dursleys but Evan knew this was going to be a difficult transition. At Hogwarts, he merely had to wake in time to sneak in a quick breakfast before racing off to class.

Gareth tapped his wand on the door handle three times and it glowed warm gold before the door unlocked and swung open. "You may decorate your suites, how you wish. Most students will have things from home they wish to use to make their room more comfortable. During the week, you will be responsible for keeping your rooms clean. House elves will come in on Saturday to do a more thorough cleaning and take care of the laundry."

Alexei looked offended that he might be forced to clean up after himself. That's what House Elves were for, of course, he could almost hear Alexei say in that condescending voice. It was a good thing their personal sleeping spaces were separate, for he had no intention of cleaning up after a spoiled brat. He did that for several years with his cousin. They would have to take turns keeping the small sitting room clean.

"Well, I'll leave you to get settled in. The opening feast is tomorrow night and most of the students should have arrived and settled in by then. Tonight's meal, is more informal and will run until eight to accommodate late arrivals."

"Thank you," Evan said quietly as he was still struggling to adjust to the new environment.

"If you decide against supper, we'll see you in the morning for breakfast. There you will receive your schedules then for both your classes as well as your duties that start on Monday. Any questions?"

"Not right now," Alexei answered then looked to him for confirmation, and he merely shrugged.

"I know this might much to take in, probably a great change from what you're accustomed to but in a month you'll feel just like you've been here all along."

_**STS**_

Their room was spacious and comfortable, with its huge wall encompassing windows, high ceilings and intricate woodwork. It was more personal than Hogwarts, which had to account for many students and it miles beyond what was offered at the Dursleys. The window was framed by six white columns giving the appearance of three separate windows. They allowed for plenty of daylight, though a sheer misty green window draping was tucked atop the columns.

There were tree styled candelabras strategically placed around the room for lighting in the evening, as well as the huge fireplace that looked large enough for both him and Alexei to floo from simultaneously.

Thick rugs were a darker forest green that matched the sofa in front of the fireplace. The sofa was covered with large plush throw pillows in shades of cream, sage and burgundy. Next to it was a heavy chair covered in deep burgundy leather. A large study table with four chairs set near an opposite wall of bookcases.

Altogether, it was a nice parlor for the two of them that wouldn't offend either his Gryffindor or Alexei's Slytherin sensibilities.

"Which one do you want?"

Alexei stood on the other side of the room before two open doorways which he assumed led to their bedrooms. "What is the difference between them?"

"They're almost identical. Bed, armoire, walk in closet, two sideboards. The views are different, however."

"Well?"

"One is the front garden we saw earlier on the tour. The other is more of the valley, you can see the river and the houses. I'd prefer the garden, if you don't mind."

"Doesn't really matter to me," he shrugged. He would rather not look out into the garden each morning. It would remind him uncomfortably of Privet Drive and the hours he spent toiling there. Granted the front garden of Valmont was beautiful, and his Aunt Petunia's sad little roses could hardly compare but it was the principle.

In his room, the bed dominated the space with its large ornate headboard that looked like the branches of trees twisting and climbing toward the ceiling. In the center was an elaborate carving of a dragon in flight.

A credenza set against a wall held a silver platter along with four goblets, all etched with the image of the same dragon of his headboard. A chaise was set near the windows. It looked perfect to cuddle into on a cold winter night before a fire. It was covered in acromantula silk that was dyed pale green brocade. There was a dressing table and armoire.

There was very little he wished to change about the décor. The walls were a rich ivory and his bedding was a rich verdant with contrasts of misty sage.

The bathroom connected to Alexei's bedroom. It had two of everything, with a tub that was the size of the one in the prefects' bath and a shower that looked more like it should be found in a rainforest with all the surrounding ferns and plant life.

He pulled his shrunken trunks from a pocket and set the on the floor to enlarge. "Unpack." The nifty spell from Tonks had most of his clothes removed and stored properly in less than ten minutes. Toiletries went to the bathroom and he chose the sink and cabinets nearest his room to store his things. Personal books went on a small shelf over a sideboard, while his pictures and photo albums went in a bottom drawer to be locked away. He would put his school things outside in the parlor. It was better to keep the bedroom separate from school work. This would be a place to relax from his busy days.

By the time he was finished in the parlor, Alexei was leaving his room as well. He looked like he had taken the opportunity to freshen up, discarding the navy outer robe leaving him only "We should go downstairs, it's almost one."

_**STS**_

If Evan thought Swansea was beautiful from the school, it was nothing compared to the earthy richness of the valley. The houses that lined the river reminded him of the Burrow, especially the ones with their plots of land sectioned out for crops or the pens for the animals. They weren't magically misshapen, no just simple straight forward cottages but they were homey and he could almost imagine the families that lived there.

The village was more modern than he expected with its odd cobblestone streets and glass window buildings. There were stores just like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade like_ Bleddyn's Apothecary,_ and a clever named place called _Drop On Inn_. A tavern called _Toss It Back_ was next to a Quidditch supply store that he couldn't see the name of.

There was a bookstore and a sweet shop along with a wandcrafter's shop named _Hair & Heartstrings_. A small branch of Gringotts was nestled between the shop where they would need to purchase robes and a smithy called simply _Yvaine's_.

What were truly interesting were the artisan stalls that lined the street that sold all kinds of things, from crafts to jewelry to mere junk. There were even booths where you could purchase food like meat pasties and fish and chips if you didn't want to go into _Willow's Fare_ to sit. There was even a Farmer's Market at the furthest end of the busy street.

It showed that while time had marched along without affecting the historic air of Swansea, its citizens were very much aware of the events and advances of the world outside the Valley.

"Any suggestions on where we should start?" He asked Alexei who was looking at the Village with greater appreciation than he had at the simple farm houses.

"Uniforms will take the longest but if we get supplies first we'll be stuck carting them around with us. Even with charms, that can be unwieldy."

"How about you get measured for your uniforms and collect them on the way back to the school, as the clothier is back at that end of the village. We'll save potion kits for just before we get the uniforms." Headmistress Yvaine suggested.

"So, uniforms, supplies then books?"

"You don't want to take some time to look around first," she asked.

"Maybe another time," Alexei suggested and Evan was grateful. It was a bit overwhelming, even without the crowd knowing that he was the Boy-Who-Lived.

The shopping went quickly, as they were focused on gathering what was needed and moving on. One thing he did notice was the different animals that walked through the village with their owners. It wasn't just the usual cats or owls, either. There were canines, reptiles and all sorts of birds. More so were the sheer amount of animals. It seemed like just about everyone had one. Most owners were adults, he didn't see anyone that looked much younger than he or Alexei with a creature. Perhaps this was one of the results of being a sanctuary.

When Alexei glanced at his watch, he noticed it was almost three and suggested they break for lunch. Evan didn't have much of an appetite but he knew he needed to eat. The Headmistress needed to return to the school and the two assured her that they would find their way back without much trouble.

_Willow's Fare_ was clean but busy and the aroma from the kitchen proved the food was good and warranted the crowd. He and Alexei decided to have the lunch special of a cream of lentil and spring onion soup and a stuffed roll of fresh fried fish served with a field greens salad. The rolls were warm and yeasty, the fish nice and flaky and it was chased down with crisp butterbeer. When the meals were brought to the table, his stomach growled loudly making them Alexei laugh and bringing forth a much needed levity. By the time he dug into pudding of fruit crumble with vanilla cream, the smiles were easy and natural.

Was it the fact that they left Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy behind that made getting along a bit easier? Traumatic things had happened to them both in a very short amount of time and now here they were in an alien environment with only an enemy/rival as company. It didn't change them completely, Alexei was still a ponce at times and he was sure there were things he did that annoyed Alexei but without other influences around them it could be ignored or even looked into deeper to see the true meaning.

"I still think I should have bought the books on husbandry." Alexei was worried about what the daily chores would entail more so than the school work they would need to catch up on.

He had purchased both the Novice and Intermediate Ancient Runes books, as well as a couple of other guides that were supposed to be helpful as his concerns lay with the new class. The Care of Magical Creatures book wasn't violent, for which both of them were thankful. The Potions book was almost twice the size of Hogwarts a History, and also had six other supplementary guides and three workbooks. They were getting worried until the Headmistress explained that they wouldn't need to take the Potions text to class mostly the guides and workbooks. The History texts were the same format.

In all he had to purchase books for ten classes not to mention the books he had picked up about Swansea for the sake of curiosity.

"It will be fine. We'll be working with other students and they're supposed to show us what needs to be done." Even if Alexei probably hadn't done an honest days labor in his life, he still had a good attitude. He had expected the spoiled Slytherin to complain the entire time about being forced to work like a commoner.

"What did you think of the uniforms?"

The uniforms were a marked change from the hat and robes they were accustomed to, the Headmistress had been right on that count. They had the option of three colors for male students, a royal blue, forest green, and fawn brown for their long sleeved tunics, so he had ordered two in each color. The breeches were offered in a sooty grey, black and a nut brown. He ordered included five of the black, four of the brown and three greys because he liked the way they fit.

Jerkins in different fabrics were available, so he chose two heavy cotton, two leathers and four woolen, in complementary colors. Although he had robes and cloaks from his previous purchases, he did order an earthy brown and a navy hooded cloak, for when they worked outdoors and two black work robes for Potions class.

"I'm still not sure about this dressing for dinner thing."

"It's a tradition practiced in most pure-blood households. It's from a time when wizards and royals still mixed. There was a time when a wizard changed clothes at least three or four times a day."

"Is that why it was suggested we bring a full wardrobe?"

"Yes, I'm glad to see the practice is continued here. It's a sign just how much Wizarding traditions are ignored at Hogwarts, that it isn't enforced there."

It was a reminder that although Alexei didn't want to be a Death Eater, most of his prejudices remained in tact. "What about this customs class we have to take? I mean if it's something you learned at home, I'm sure you'll be bored."

"The classes are more likely than not tailored for your age, meaning things that would have been learned before won't be taught. There will likely be more focus on societal etiquette, formal situations navigating through the different echelons of the Wizarding world." He took a drink from his glass of butterbeer before speaking again. "Definitely Wizarding law and politics. That's what Lucius told me we would be discussing this summer."

"That ought to be fun," Evan drawled, implying that it would be no such thing.

"It will be what you make of it, Evan. If you want it to be boring and a waste of time, it shall be. If you take an active interest and put forth effort, you might actually gain valuable experience from the class."

"I just don't like the ideal of learning all of those pure-blood manners and putting on airs."

"That sounds more like the Weasel's opinions."

"Don't call him that," he snapped and Alexei waved off his burst of anger.

"I'll tell you what, Slytherin exchange."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I want you to keep an open mind in regards to the customs class because I think you'll benefit from it and without Weasel around you'll even come to appreciate it. So in return, I'm offering to keep an open mind when it comes to muggle-borns. I admit, I haven't had the chance to speak to many of them and only have Lucius's opinion and my rare experiences to judge them by. So, I'll convince you of the validity of the customs class and you convince me that muggle-born should be allowed to attend Hogwarts."

"That's just stupid! Muggle-borns deserve the opportunity to learn magic just like everyone else. Hermione is every bit a good a witch as say, Pansy Parkinson. If not better."

"Are you not up to the task then, Evan?"

"Fine," he agreed, more than up to the challenge of changing Alexei's perceptions.

The fact that Alexei was willing to open his mind to the possibility was half the battle. Overcoming prejudices that had been ingrained practically from birth wouldn't be easy but with examples like Hermione and his mother, and his own father's actions proving that not everything Lucius Malfoy said should be accepted as fact, he was confident of his success.

"We should start back to the school," Alexei suggested.


	5. Part III: Continued

A/N: The warnings have changed._  
_

Warnings: AU after GoF. Original Characters introduced.

Pairing: Harry/Sally-Anne

However, any romance involved will not take place until much later in the story. I don't know how that will affect any readers of the story but I felt that since I had made a decision I should let you all know.

Rated: M for violence, language, adult content

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

Summary: With the Ministry of Magic against him and Voldemort seeking his death, Harry Potter knew his only hope was to leave everything he had come to love and seek sanctuary in another land.

What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined.

What he found would help him win a war.

* * *

_7_

_Memory_

Dear Snuffles,

When I bought this journal, my original intention was to try to keep an account of the next year so I would be able to tell everyone back home everything that happened.

I sat down to write just now and I think I started and stopped three or four times because everything sounded like utter rubbish. I guess I'm just not a journal type of bloke.

Eventually, I decided I would just write letters to everyone. I'm not very good at putting my thoughts and feelings down on paper, especially when I know someone is going to read them but it was either this or toss the idea entirely.

I started my letters with you because you were on my mind most today. It sounds silly, but I do worry about you, you know. You're my godfather and I want to make sure that you're safe and maybe even a little happy.

I hope you're not still stuck in the house and are getting out and about. Perhaps you'll be able to tell me about the city. It always looks pretty interesting when I get a chance to see bits of it. As you've probably guessed, the relatives weren't very big on taking me places when I was younger. I did happen to get to the zoo once, remember I told you about the snake I accidentally set free.

When I'm older, I think one of the things I'd like to do most is travel and see the world. Just being here for this short time has shown me how much I've been missing, especially of the magical world.

It's so beautiful here. And that probably makes me sound like a girl but it really is. When I arrived, I felt like I had been here before. Like a Déjà vu. Or a memory of a life I had previously lived. The sights and sounds and even the scents in the air were so very familiar and comforting. I wonder if everyone who arrives here for the first time feels that way.

The Headmistress greeted me from the other side of a puny bridge that I had to cross to get through the wards. And Snuffles, I have to say, she was terribly lovely. When I met Emmy for the first time, I thought, wow she was pretty but Headmistress is beautiful like out of a dream or something near.

She was very kind to me and was willing to answer any questions that I had which was great considering how often adults say that but don't really seem to mean it. There was just something about her that told me, she could be counted on, if that makes any sense at all. I'll trust my instincts for the moment, until she proves them wrong. I really hope she doesn't.

Did I mention that her eyes are like mine? I hear a lot about how my Mum's eyes were like mine, so that's what really struck me. They're the same green, the same shape, everything is virtually identical. Except she has these really long and thick eyelashes that you can't help but notice. Mine are nothing like that. Right?

The Opening feast is tomorrow night, so I'll get to meet the other students here. I'm nervous about that, you know. I've never been very good at making friends. When I was younger, my cousin made it very difficult for the other children at school to get to know me due to his harassment and threats. No one wanted to get on his bad side.

Why is it that he got away with that, Snuffles? Why didn't a teacher notice and make him stop? I think about stuff like that sometimes when I'm stuck in my head for company. How my cousin could create a hunting game of me with his friends and no one said anything to him. How he would take the bits of my lunch that he wanted because he knew I wouldn't say anything because he would tell my Uncle when we got home and I would be punished.

No one noticed how he wore the best clothes but yet I was stuck in clothes too big and clearly his cast offs. No one questioned how I was smaller than everyone, even some of the girls. No one cared about me, Snuffles. Not at all. I was just that weird boy that it was best to ignore.

I think that's part of the reason why it's so hard for me to trust the adults who always say I should seek out help. Years of blind eyes make it difficult to reach out again, especially when most of those times resulted in me getting swatted by my Uncle or locked in my room. So I guess I just learned it was best to handle my problems on my own.

So.

I'm a little worried about classes. I've never been much of a book learner and the help I got from my friends probably saved my grades these last years. Magic is wonderful and I love casting spells. I wish that was all I had to worry about instead of revision and papers to write. This is OWL year and I dread them.

I picked up a new class, Ancient Runes, so I'll be revising three years of information in one year which I find bloody impossible to believe. And there are some other classes I have to take as well but at least there won't be OWL's for them. At least, I don't think so. That's something I'll have to ask the Advisor who is assigned to me.

Oh, and you'll never guess who Dumbledore sent along to school with me! Bloody Slimy Ponce himself! I was all set to hex his arse and ask questions later. He had to have lied or something to get here.

It really shocked me when he explained himself. I won't say what happened, as it is his personal business. I believe the only reason he told me anything was because he was forced to due to the Vow Dumbledore made him swear to. I had heard Unbreakable Vows were powerful but I didn't realize how it would affect my magic to have one in place concerning me. Are they all like that?

Probably just another thing that makes me different from everyone else.

I feel bad for the git. And sometimes it makes me furious that I have any sympathetic feeling toward him at all. He was a total bastard to us over the years. Always insulting us, or trying to get us in trouble. But no one deserves what happened to him even if they're not good people.

He challenged me to learn more about Wizarding traditions and laws and stuff like that. Said it would help me navigate through society and it was something all pure-bloods learned when they reached a certain age.

You know how I felt about that. Part of me wanted to take his challenge and shove it back down his throat. I had no inclination to learn how bigots thought and acted. Then I realized, how much more effective it would be to know how to deal with fools like the MOM. The Headmaster must know some of these things given how revered he is by so many in our world. I guess it's all about your own personal convictions and how you apply these things you learn.

Besides, I don't see the harm in learning more about the law. Muggle children are taught the laws of their world in school. Maybe even the etiquette stuff could be helpful, so I don't feel so uncomfortable.

For his part, he challenged me to make him see that muggle-borns deserved to be treated the same as pure-bloods. Of course I immediately thought of my Mum and all the times he's insulted her.

Then he practically turned it into a dare and you know how I reacted to that.

Couldn't resist.

I guess my problem is how do you change a person's beliefs? He's been raised all of his life to be proud of his heritage and disdain those of lesser blood and revile those who are without magic. I won't even start on his father.

It's like my cousin really. His parents taught him it was okay to bully other children by not punishing him when he did and looking the other way and even encouraging him when he turned that behavior on me. They taught him to throw a tantrum to get what he wanted by not reprimanding him when he did it the first time and merely giving in to his demands or placating him with even more indulgences. So they formed him into the fat, bullying prat he is and he doesn't know any better.

But at the same time, he knows right from wrong. We aren't children anymore and at some point those actions became conscious choices.

It's the same with the Git. He was taught all of these things by his parents and now his world has been upended and he finds himself questioning his beliefs and forced to ally with people he had previous claimed to hate.

He has this sense of entitlement because he was born to wealth and has magic. He thinks little of others feelings and if he does consider them, it's more in relation to what they can do for him. His contempt for anything he believes beneath him is palpable. How am I supposed to change someone like this, when I can barely stand to be around him?

We've claimed truce to get along here at school and so far we haven't killed each other. It's strange because there are times when he's not so bad and others when I want to shove him in a trunk and owl him back home. I guess the points in his favor are that he's being reasonable.

He still insults my friends, though he has not used the word mudblood once. He probably knows I would hurt him if he did, regardless of the rules here. I despise that word, Snuffles. I hate the very thought of someone using that filthy word in relation to my Mum, when she was worth millions of those bastards.

Yet, I can't demand that he be nice to my friends. It's his prerogative to not like them, as long as his insults are about them personally and not about blood or wealth or prejudice.

I don't like his friends, not because they're pure-bloods but because they're morons.

I have requested that he keep his insults to himself. In turn, I try to lead by example and not question aloud the close genetics of his friends being the cause of their mental deficiencies.

I'll know I've made some progress in him when he manages this feat. Sometimes all you can strive for are the small victories and hope they lead to bigger ones.

Wish me luck.

* * *

_8_

_Haunted_

"_I….back…Keep...dawn."_

_The grunts of agreement were overshadowed by the pounding of the hooves of the group Abraxans they rode. The snow storm came on fast, just as they were leaving Valmont for winter break, so they kept to the ground. He had stayed behind for six days because he hadn't wanted to leave before the mare he had bred Aristas with foaled. Now he was suffering the consequences as they rode through the heavy snow home. _

_The fur lined leather gloves he wore kept the chill from sinking into the fingers that gripped the reins he snapped once to urge the winged palomino on. He leaned into the ride, thrilling at the speed and power of the animal between his legs. There was only one thing he loved more and that was the brush of air on his face as Aristas flew through the sky. _

_Just as the sun peaked over the horizon, he caught his first glimpse of the imposing structure built into the side of the mountain. Home. A wonderful contentment unfurled in his stomach as he realized just how much he had missed being here during the last months of school. _

_The Citadel would be decorated, of course, leaving behind the scents of evergreen and holly. The joy of the holidays would have infected everyone. Mother would have instructed the Brownies to begin the exorbitant amounts of baking of biscuits and cakes and other confections that all would enjoy through the season. Father would have had the tree brought in but would wait until the entire family was together for decorating. _

_By the time he reached the gates, a groom was greeting him, taking the reins to lead his mount to the stables to tend. "I'll see you later this evening, so behave yourself." He rubbed a hand over the neck of his friend, brushing aside some of the snow that had fallen there. Aristas rewarded him with a butt of his muzzle at his shoulder. The men who rode in with him waited to have their own mounts taken care of but he raced inside giving them a quick wave of farewell. _

_The heavy doors opened under the thrust of his hands. His boots were soundless as he stepped inside, took a deep breath and allowed the sense of welcome to fill him. Everything was just as he knew it would be and he couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face. _

"_You were cutting it quite close, little master." _

"_Fritz!" He looked down at the Brownie who had served as his valet since his eleventh year. "You didn't have to wait up for me." _

_The look he received in return said more than any words could have ever conveyed. Fritz would always wait for him. He saw it as his sacred duty to care for him and Merlin be warned to any who dared try to stop him. Including the 'little master' himself._

_He removed the sable ushanka, shaking it free from snow, and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. The sable trimmed cloak and gloves he wore were next and he passed it all to Fritz who banished the entire damp bundle to his bedroom. "Unfortunately, my armor will need cleaning again," he told the Brownie, who had already surmised this given the stains of blood and birth that covered the black basilisk skin breeches and fitted coat._

"_I will see to it immediately, sir."_

"_So, is she still awake?"_

"_She always is." _

_Harried steps carried him upstairs to the bedroom across from his. It was ornately decorated in shades of soft cornflower and magnolia, a marked contrast to his own but he expected nothing less. She had been contradicting him for as long as he could remember. _

_The door was open and he could see the soft glow of light proving Fritz was correct, that she had waited up for him. As he stepped inside, he was struck by the lack of warmth in the room and the sudden differences. The fireplace was cold and the bed had not been turned down. _

_A woman sat on its edge, not the girl he had expected, with a silver frame clasped in her hands. Her hair was the same dark auburn as his and cascade in long graceful waves over her shoulders and down her back. She was gentle, serenely regal and so beautiful it made his heart ache with love. But her eyes, they were so profoundly sad and he didn't know what had caused her such pain. _

_What drew his eye was the cobalt stone hanging from the golden chain around her neck nestled between her breasts. It was luminous and for one strange moment shimmered with an inner glow. She visibly jerked, as their eyes met. Identical. Her shocked gasp echoed through the silence as slender trembling fingers covered her mouth in disbelief and a tear slid down her cheek. _

"_Hagan?"  
_  
Just the sound of that melodic voice had snapped him awake and Evan found himself still in bed wondering what the hell had happened.

* * *

_9_

_Ceremony_

"Good Evening, all, and welcome to a new year at Valmont Academy."

The Great Hall was much smaller than Hogwarts, there was no enchanted ceiling to give the illusion of the sky and all the faces were virtual strangers. Instead of floating candles, there were hanging fixtures that held large candles. Banners were strung from the ceiling in shades of blue, white and maroon decorated with Valmont's colors .

The Hall had windows opened wide to bring in warmth of a late summer evening. Behind the platform and the two tables where the professors were seated was a large stained glass window with a large depiction of Valmont's coat of arms, crossed swords behind a royal blue shield emblazoned with a Dragon with Pegasus and Gryphon supporters.

The bite of homesickness these realizations brought him was sharp and painful.

He tried to look on the positive side of the situation. Valmont would be his home for the next year. He would be spared the Ministry of Magic's harassment. He wouldn't have to tolerate Snape's belittling comments about himself and his father. And he would have a year of being only himself without the expectations that came with his name.

He had been through all of this before and this waffling back and forth was just foolish. A little homesickness wouldn't kill him.

The eager applause after the Headmistress' words gave Evan the opportunity to observe his new classmates without notice. The students sat at circular tables which created a personal atmosphere so they could talk freely as the meal progressed. Each year had two tables, sitting no more than eight. The number of students was much fewer than Hogwarts, there couldn't have been more than one hundred students if that many but it was quite eclectic.

Dinner dress rules had all the students in evening finery but as it was technically the opening feast, the night seemed to have been unofficially dubbed a special occasion and most were clothed in their finest. Even the little Novice years were attired in their best.

Alexei had donned traditional Wizarding robes in a deep indigo that seemed to accentuate his blue eyes. It was still strange to see him with the golden brown hair. Part of him hoped Alexei would keep it this way, as it helped him to forget the Malfoy of their past interactions and focus on the Alexei he was getting to know. That was unfair but these were his personal feelings after all. They needn't be spoken aloud.

His own robes were much more modern, adopting a muggle military inspired design in deep rich burgundy, especially with the silver cords across his chest. There was more silver embroidery at the mandarin collar that sharpened the austere tailoring.

The look earned him a sneer and a muttered, "Gryffindor," from Alexei that he found amusing rather than offensive.

The other students in the hall had chosen to wear a wide variety of styles that ranged from everything from the wealthy traditional like Alexei's to muggle attire to clothes that looked medieval. Even the Professors had worn their finest; he noted them up on the platform. Headmistress Yvaine was resplendent in a pale gold medieval gown.

"I would like to take a moment to welcome our new students and to greet our returning ones as well. Before we begin our meal, let us all stand and pay tribute to our hallowed halls." He rose, just as the others at his table did, casting a look over to Alexei to see if he knew what was going on. The brow lift he received in return told him that the other was just as clueless.

"For those who unfamiliar with our opening feast tradition, each student has a place card before them. There you will find Valmont's creed which we recite each year as a reminder of the gift and responsibility magic is."

Just as she said, he found the card, printed on maroon parchment with white font. "Let us begin."

"By Skill and Valor, we are magic." The others around him began and he caught up on the next line.

"Integrity, perseverance and fidelity are the standards of Valmont. We humbly serve as guardians to all magical creatures. We defend those unable to defend themselves. Magic is a privilege and our wand is a symbol of honor and heritage. The legacy of Valmont strengthens my resolve and guides my wand."

The following silence was solemn. The younger students were just learning the meaning of those words while the older were reaffirming their commitment. He had never really thought of his magic in that way before, so this was something he would have to ponder later when he was alone.

"Let the feast begin."

A wave of her wand and the food appeared on the tables, one thing that Valmont had in common with Hogwarts. The food was traditional fare, roasted chicken and leg of lamb each with an accompanying gravy, mashed potatoes and sweet corn with courgettes and bacon, carrots, brussel sprouts with chestnuts and fresh rolls.

Feeling decidedly peckish, he helped himself to some of everything and a brimming goblet of punch. He had come down for breakfast with Alexei so they could get their class schedules but decided to skip the afternoon meal, preferring to spend the time in his rooms contemplating the dream he had.

It made absolutely no sense. At first it felt like he was standing to the side watching the dream unfold but then suddenly he felt like he was the very person he had been observing. Their bodies felt the same, he could sense the excitement of returning home for the Winter holidays. He felt the affection for the little house elf Fritz.

The love for the woman sitting on the bed.

For some reason, he had expected her to be younger and the name she called him. It was so close to Harry and he didn't know if it was the actual sound of her voice that had startled him awake or hearing that name.

He wished Hermione or Ron were here, he really needed to talk to someone about this. He didn't feel comfortable enough with Alexei to confide in him about, well anything, so he was left with scribbling his feelings down in the journal written as a poorly disguised letter to Hermione.

"You two are new here."

Evan looked up at the question, and into the dark eyed girl across from him. The other two on either side of her looked at them expectantly, waiting for a response.

"Yes, we are." Alexei answered.

"I arrived late, so I missed breakfast and neither of you were at lunch," she went on to clarify. "But these two saw you this morning but you sat at one of the other tables."

Breakfast had been a relaxed meal, since all of the students had yet to arrive. So he and Alexei had grabbed a table near the front and sat alone observing the cliques who greeted each other after the summer break.

"Oh, pardon me, you must think I'm terribly rude." She grinned, wrinkling her nose as she laughed at herself. "I'm Marisol Alvarez and these are my friends Rhosyn and Steffon Bleddyn."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Alexei answered, then gestured to him. "This is Evan Hawthorne and I am Alexei Prince."

"We don't usually get transfers," Rhosyn spoke up, though he had to strain a little to hear her timid voice. She had blonde hair like her brother with wide guileless blue eyes and an honest face. The boy, Steffon, placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder and she gave him a smile in return.

Evan wiped his mouth with his napkin before speaking. "I went to a really small local school but my parents thought it best if I attended a properly accredited school for my OWL and NEWT exams. I was pleased to receive the invitation to Valmont." It was the story that Remus and Emmy put together for him and he was glad for it because he should have expected to be questioned about why he was coming to Valmont in his fifth year.

"And what about you, Prince," Steffon asked.

"My godfather and I had recently relocated from Greece when we received the invitation from Valmont."

"You don't sound Greek," Marisol said.

"We aren't, I'm originally from England but my godfather's career as apothecary requires a great deal of traveling. We lived in Karpathos for two years collecting ingredients and selling them."

"So how do you and Hawthorne know each other?"

"You can call me Evan," he told them. "And they opened their new apothecary in the village where I live. It was a surprise to see Alexei here, actually. I hadn't told anyone I was leaving for school because I didn't want to make an affair of it."

Alexei glared at him but Evan just raised his eyebrows. How else would they explain the fact that they were acquainted with each other? He was sorry if that was a problem with the story Alexei had concocted. They could fix things later back in their rooms.

"Steffon and I are originally from the village," Rhosyn said.

"You family owns Bleddyn Apothecary in the village?" Alexei queried, and Evan could practically see the ideas forming in the other's head.

"It's been in our family for many generations," Steffon told them proudly. "Our father runs the store now but our uncle Maxen is the Potion Master of the village."

"I look forward to exploring it further. I'm sure there are many things that would interest my godfather that we have not found on our travels elsewhere."

"What about you, Marisol? Are you from the village as well?"

"Oh, no. My family is from Cerbere, Spain." Which accounted for her mild accent, Evan reasoned. "My parents thought I would receive an invitation from Beaubatons but I think they were pleased with my decision to attend Valmont."

After more conversation about how they liked the school and their favorite classes, dinner was eventually taken away and dessert of sticky toffee pudding and apple crumble with hazelnut ice cream was served.

"Hmm, I love hazelnut ice cream," Marisol sighed as she licked her lips and took another taste.

"Is that why you're molesting that spoon?" Rhosyn giggled, shocking both him and Alexei. He had pegged her as too shy to have even thought something so suggestive let alone speaking it aloud. It seemed he hadn't been alone in that belief.

"I'll have you know, I'm enjoying myself, seeing as we begin bright and ridiculously early with our chores in the morning." Marisol explained.

"Don't remind me," Steffon grumbled into his own serving of apple crumble. "I hate working in the stables."

"You hate the Abraxans," Marisol teased. "But Rhosyn and I are fortunate. The Intermediate girls work in the greenhouses in the mornings," she explained at his questioning look. "The boys are in the stables."

"Is it difficult?" And he knew Alexei was thinking of his desire to purchase that husbandry book the other day.

"No, it's just tiresome," Steffon explained. "Especially during breeding season."

Before he could continue, the Headmistress rose from her seat to get everyone's attention. "I'm glad we're all enjoying our meal, feel free to continue while I make a few short announcements. First, class schedules were handed out today. For our new students, Novices will meet at afternoon break to discuss their scheduling for their duties. Intermediate and Advance students will meet in their common room in the morning. If for some reason you find a conflict with your class and duty schedules please do not hesitate to go to the Administrative offices in the first wing so they can be corrected as soon as possible."

He was still concerned about how they would fit so much in the day and how he was going to get through this next year without Hermione reminding him to get his work done.

"Trips to the village are scheduled for the third Saturday of each month. Novice years are only allowed to visit with a chaperone. Students fifteen and older are welcome to visit as their schedule permits. If this privilege is abused, it shall be revoked."

It was a freedom that he planned to take advantage of when he could.

"Our clubs will begin meeting next Monday after classes end for the day. Also, I know many students bring their brooms to school, please note the fields are not a Quidditch pitch. Please remain in the allocated areas for flying or brooms will be confiscated."

"Are there Quidditch teams?" he whispered to Steffon.

"No. But we set up some intramural teams to play in the spring."

Alexei looked almost as shocked as he felt. No Quidditch? What else was there to do?

"A reminder, Advisor meetings will take place this week and please remember to make an appointment with our Healer Clover for yearly exams. I have it on good authority that forgetting is not an acceptable excuse." The students who were familiar with Healer Clover laughed. "And of course, our Temple is always available for anyone who needs guidance. Again, I want to welcome everyone back. Let's have a wonderful and productive year."


	6. Part III: Cont

A/N: Sorry for the previous confusion in the pairings.

Warnings: AU after GoF. Pairing: Harry/Sally-Anne. This fic has many parts and any romance involved won't come along until much later in the story.

Rated: M for violence, language, adult content, original characters

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts of the Harry Potter verse. All rights belong to proper owners and no profit is made from this writing.

Summary: With the Ministry of Magic against him and Voldemort seeking his death, Harry Potter knew his only hope was to leave everything he had come to love and seek sanctuary in another land.

What he found went beyond anything he could have imagined.

What he found would help him win a war.

* * *

**_10_**

**_Naked_**

The alarm charm awakened an unhappy teenager at five on Monday morning.

As Evan took in the glimpse of darkened sky revealed from his window, he had to resist the urge to roll over and stuff a pillow down on his head to block out its annoying tones. Instead, he reached over to the stand by his bed and used his wand to cancel the persistent noise.

The night before ended a lot later than he had intended. After the opening feast, students retired to their Houses for the remainder of the evening. It was there he and Alexei were introduced to the rest of the Intermediate students of their year.

Valerian Fournier was from France, a muggle-born from just outside Paris to be precise, whose mother was a French model and father worked in the publishing world. He was wealthy, conceited and handsome, standing at a height of almost six feet with blond hair and grey eyes. Of which he was quick to assure them he was quite aware. In short, he was the muggle-born version of Draco Malfoy without the prejudice.

Evan found it hilarious. Alexei, not so much, as soon as he figured out why Evan couldn't stop cackling like a hyena for two minutes straight.

Valerian was the only other student besides Marisol who wasn't originally from the village.

Quanna Maguire had skin the color of warm caramel, hazel eyes, and black hair worn shorn low and curly. Her father was a farmer who was born in Swansea but had traveled to MacKay, Queensland on business where he met her mother, an Aboriginal witch. Quanna was an avid rider and president of the riding club and had invited them to come see what they were about next week.

At hearing he had only ever ridden a hippogriff, she jokingly pronounced him her best friend. The others thought it hilarious because it was the one animal she hadn't managed to ride here at Valmont.

Ellis Llewellyn's family owned one of the most prosperous farms of Swansea, having the major contract with Valmont to supply all of their livestock products. He had an older brother who was Apprenticing under the Charms Master here at Valmont and a little sister who just started this year as a Novice. Ellis was a little conceited but Evan was familiar with middle child syndrome, given Ron was his best friend. So he paid the teen little attention.

Owen Pritchard, a quiet unassuming boy with dark hair and eyes, was closely related to the ruling Lord and Lady of Swansea. He didn't have much to say but when he did the others listened. Owen had the highest marks in most of their classes and ran the study group here in their common room on Mondays, Thursdays and occasional Fridays and Saturdays when exams were coming up.

The biggest surprise of the evening was when Sally-Anne Perks stood from where she had been partially concealed by shadows and the large chair she sat in by the fireplace. Obviously she had matured since the last time Evan remembered seeing her. Hair the color of rich dark chocolate was pinned up but tendrils had escaped to frame her face and against her nape. The black velvet of her medieval dress heightened the way that shock drained the color from her skin.

She had taken one look at them and barely stuttered out her name. It was then he knew that she had recognized them. The disguises might work on strangers but they were fellow students with Sally-Anne for an entire year. Factor in his infamy as The-Boy-Who-Lived and Alexei's Malfoy heritage, her discovery was inconvenient but not necessarily unexpected.

Sally-Anne had been one of the mysteries of Gryffindor at the start of second year. Evan could remember she had been sorted right before him and into Gryffindor. As he had his own troubles and adventures that first year, he hadn't paid much attention to the dark haired girl who lived in the girls dorms with Hermione. Frankly, he hadn't paid much attention to any of the girls in their year during that time.

It was only when it was mentioned near the start of the next year that Sally-Anne was missing that anyone paid attention. The mystery lasted until the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco began. Afterwards, it was simply assumed that she either went to a different school or her family just couldn't afford to send her back to Hogwarts for another year.

The last thing he expected was to have her show up here. Sally-Anne revealed was originally from Swansea. Yet for some reason she had chosen to go to Hogwarts and was now back home attending Valmont. He had to wonder if Dumbledore knew she was here. Her family owned the _Toss It Back_ tavern and invited them all down on Friday night when there would be live music and free food and drinks for her classmates just as they had each year she attended.

It turned out that they all had pretty much the same class schedules. Arithmancy was offered in the evenings on the same day as those who weren't in Divination. Unfortunately for him, none of them were in Divination. He would still need to be tested by the Professor for admittance to her class but Evan thought he would be struggling through Arithmancy as well as Ancient Runes soon enough.

It was long past midnight by the time he went to bed and that's why he was in desperate need of rolling over to go back to sleep here at five and not preparing to clean stables.

It's not that he wasn't accustomed to doing chores, most of his life at the Dursleys had been dedicated to some task he had to finish with the threat of punishment looming over his head. He had simply come to separate that part of his life from Hogwarts over the last years. Not only would his two worlds merge, they would do so at an uncomfortable hour of the morning. He couldn't imagine getting up at this Merlin forsaken hour for the next year. It would be worse when it was time to revise for OWLS.

For the first time he could be grateful to the Dursleys for something, at least his body had learned to function without total brain activity years ago.

Before he was fully aware, he had slipped into an old faded pair of jeans and an old long sleeved t-shirt and his oldest shoes. He hadn't intended to keep the remainders of Dudley's old castoffs but If the others were correct, they would be in the stables three times a week. The girls would be in the greenhouses. They all would have kitchen duty during lunch hour. It was an ideal schedule because it left their afternoons and evenings free.

The night before, Alexei asked what he should wear and Evan had told him to pick something old that he would not mind if it was ruined by dirt and wear. Though Evan couldn't imagine what that translated to in Alexei's wardrobe.

He tapped on the other's door and surprisingly the former Slytherin opened it and was ready to go. "Morning," Alexei drawled sleepily.

"Morning." He swallowed before cautiously asking, "You're wearing that shirt?"

The heavy trousers were okay, as he couldn't imagine Alexei having a pair of denims in his expansive collection of clothes. Even the boots were fine. They were better than what he wore but were sturdy and looked comfortable which was most important. He just knew from experience that the long sleeved button shirt would ruined be when they started working.

"You said something old," Alexei told him.

"Wait a minute."

He rushed back to his room and returned with another t-shirt like his, in a dark green. Alexei wasn't much taller, but Evan was broader through the shoulders so the shirt should fit. "You can wear this and save that shirt for this afternoon during kitchen chores."

Alexei looked at the t-shirt for a long time, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to touch something that a muggle created. This really was a make or break moment between them. Alexei said he would keep an open mind and this was the time to see if he was being truthful.

Merlin, it was too early for such deep thinking.

As he started to pull away, Alexei reached out to snatch it from his hand. They stood that way for a long time, a simple green t-shirt stretched between them, eyes connected as perhaps they each understood something important was occurring. Teaching Alexei to reach beyond the prejudices of his childhood wouldn't be easy. It would have been impossible if Alexei wasn't willing.

This was such a tentative truce, with each slipping into the personas created for their year of schooling here at Valmont. The past was never far away, always ready to leap forward and remind them of the fights and harsh words shouted at each other. Evan opened his fingers.

In this moment, Potter and Malfoy slipped away and became Evan and Alexei. Perhaps he could learn to trust Alexei Prince. The Alexei who had turned aside a lifetime of beliefs and proved he was willing to try. That's all Evan could ever ask for, really.

Hermione and Ron would never understand his willingness to extend Alexei a hand in friendship. They would insist he didn't deserve a chance for redemption. Hurtful words aside, and being a menace, nothing Alexei had done was near the cruelty of a Death Eater. He had faced Death Eaters and this boy wasn't a Death Eater. He was simply a product of his environment.

Slowly a grin curved his mouth, "Come on. We don't want to be late for our first day."

"Don't remind me," Alexei grimaced with disgust but he quickly shed his shirt for the other.

"It won't be horrible," he reminded the other. "Not easy but not horrible either. At least I hope."

"You Gryffindors do seem to have a lot of that."

"What?"

"Hope. Jumping in and hoping for the best? That's more your style."

"Well, you can scheme to do the least amount of work on your own time."

_STS_

Their assignment wasn't as bad as it could have been. Mucking out the stalls was strenuous and his muscles would be feeling the ache tomorrow. Feeding the animals was fun because he had the opportunity to see the vast array Valmont kept. Llewellyn told them this was only the first stable used mostly for equestrian animals. They would eventually work in all four.

There wasn't much opportunity for talking with their new classmates but when they did, it was just the usual joking around teenage boys got up to. A lot was aimed at Alexei but Valerian had commiserated. Before Valerian came to Valmont he hadn't done more than hang up a robe.

The time passed quickly and Alexei was good natured enough not to mind their humor at his expense. Evan had to admit, he expected Alexei to lose his temper at one point but he didn't. He did aim several well placed digs in return, proving there was still a lot of the old Slytherin there.

After a quick breakfast of hot porridge, rashers of bacon, warm buttery scones slavered with fruit preserves and glasses of cold milk, a very dirty Alexei followed him back to their rooms, so they could quickly shower and change into their uniforms for morning classes.

Their day started with a double of History of the World with Professor Randall, a portly wizard with graying hair and a cheerful disposition. It was obvious that he loved his subject, eagerly drawing the students into the discussion. Throughout the year they would be covering the events of the 17th and the early 18th century in both magical and muggle societies and if and how either were affected.

It promised to be very interesting. Evan knew the Statute of Secrecy went into effect in the 17th century as well as the Werewolf code of conduct but syllabus included events he hadn't heard of. What he really liked was that Professor Randall included the history of Quidditch in his lectures.

So Evan didn't mind when they were sent off with a report due the next week on Elfrida Clagg, the Chieftainess of the Warlock's Council and the contributions she made to their society.

Double HPH was next and Professor MacGregor was a nice enough witch. She had the no-nonsense attitude of Professor McGonagall but the energy of Professor Sprout. Their first project of the year would be on Chinese Chomping Cabbages. They would grow them, research it and the types of potions it is used in and eventually brew several potions using them.

Kitchen Duty that afternoon was pretty interesting, again due to Alexei's inexperience. After a brief quizzing, it was decided that Alexei would be responsible for chopping vegetables in set up, as there could be few mistakes made in such a simple chore. Alexei was understandably relieved.

"It isn't potions, Prince," Llewellyn said before clapping Alexei on the shoulder hard enough to jar his smooth knife movements. "It's just a lamb stew."

The kitchen ran like a well oiled machine and probably could have done so without their help. The Matron in charge, Madam Kerns, had six House Elves for helpers. Evidently, she planned the meals for the day and the Elves did a lot of the labor. The students did menial chores like Alexei with his vegetables and measuring, others did a lot of clean up, like Steffon who had proven the year before to be absolutely pants at anything that had to do with food and cooking. Some however were lucky enough to be included in the cooking process.

"So Mr. Hawthorne, have you any experience cooking?"

Alexei's eyes were instantly drawn to their discussion. Snape had called him so many names over the years, the Slytherins probably believed their head of house. He was tempted to lie and spend his time doing menial tasks with Alexei. It just wasn't worth the effort, as the truth had a way of coming out in the end.

"Yes, ma'am. I've cooked for my family for many years but nothing on this scale." Not even preparing food for the occasional dinner party was the same as cooking lunch for an entire school.

"Aye, tis a bit different cooking for a family, of how many now?"

"Four. Well, they loved their food, so probably best to say eight."

"Ah, a family with large appetites. You'll find it's all essentially the same. There are recipe cards over in each section of the kitchen. Misty keeps an eye on the stews while they're simmering."

There wasn't a normal stove but three huge cauldrons like pots that were probably even larger on the inside that were waiting for a flame.

"Binky, she's our youngest Brownie, takes care of our fruits and beverages. Trinket is in charge of slicing meat and cheeses for sandwiches. Nippy's group makes the bread, as there will be lots of that. Penny's charges are responsible for pudding. This afternoon we'll have an assortment of biscuits and fruit tarts. Cricket does the vegetables. Today will have some roasted roots."

"Roots?"

"Carrots, potatoes, parsnips and such," she explained. "Mashed peas and field greens round out the meal. It's not as much as the evening meal but generally enough to satisfy everyone."

The variety wasn't as expansive as Hogwarts but that didn't make it smell any less delicious. Valmont was a small school and such grand meals as were served at Hogwarts would have been wasteful here.

"Think you can handle a station?" She gave him a slow penetrating stare as if knowing if he told a lie.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll start you with something simple then. Eventually you'll try your hand at them all. You'll work with Cricket today."

There wasn't much talking as the cooking wasn't easy as cleaning a stable. They were allowed to use magic on some things but not always. Evan could see where magic could be handy but a deft hand was always better.

They were allowed to join the others in the Hall near the end of lunch. Alexei actually looked a little proud that he had played a hand in creating the meal for everyone. It was a humbling experience that Evan didn't expect the other to appreciate this soon. Maybe Alexei's pride had taken enough knocks that morning that it knocked him off stride.

It also made him wonder how much of Malfoy from Hogwarts was real and how much a façade was put on to impress the other Slytherins and keep his father happy.

_STS_

Afternoon classes began with the Preparatory class that Headmistress Yvaine told them about. It was located on the first level in a room with a huge U-shaped table. In front of each chair was a small packet, as well as a place card with their name on it. The boys were situated on one side of the room with girls on the other. When everyone was seated, the Professors stood to introduce themselves.

"Good afternoon," the woman with short curly black hair spoke up, after she was standing behind her chair. There was nothing about her that stood out. Over all she was rather average in appearance, height and dress. So that didn't explain the strong authoritative presence she had.

"I am Professor Rousseau and this is Professor Pontecorvo, and we are here to instruct you on life skills and knowledge of the Wizarding world you will need to help you be successful. Our students here at Valmont are often the representatives of Swansea to the rest of the world. You will learn it is important to put forth a positive first and lasting impression."

Professor Pontecorvo was a tall well groomed man who had a substantial self-confident presence. Everything about him seemed to scream that he was comfortable with himself without having to be arrogant or posturing. From his neatly styled light brown hair and beard, to the classically tailored robes in navy.

"In this class we will be covering many subjects, from Wizarding and Muggle Laws and how they conflict and compliment each other, to personal growth skills and leadership development including time management, conflict resolution and problem solving skills." The rich timbre of Pontecorvo's voice revealed his Slavic heritage. "There are some subjects where the class will be divided for our ladies and gentlemen to receive instruction."

"Near the end of the year," Professor Rousseau took over. "There will be time available for individual instruction."

"You are at a critical time in your development. These are the years where you shape the adult you will grow to be. These are the years where you develop the proper habits and etiquette that guide you through not only Wizarding society but the Muggle one as well."

Professor Rousseau picked up the packet that was similar to the students, showing the cover page to the class. "This is your class syllabus. Here you find each topic we will cover over the course of the year. There will be no excuses, for being unprepared. A tentative schedule is also included but be aware that it is tentative. Some subjects may require more instruction than others."

"If you will open your packet to the first section: The Art of the Introduction."

By the time class ended, he felt like he had been rode hard and put away wet. He had no idea how important something as simple as a first impression could be. Not just in meeting people for the first time but how he was perceived by all around him. That wasn't even to mention the magical creatures that would be offended by so many things that humans took for granted.

Part of him knew this, look at how Hagrid had instructed them to greet a Hippogriff. Yet he really hadn't internalized the fact that other magical creatures and beings might require that same care and forethought.

Professor Pontecorvo had corrected his posture, his voice, his nervous habit of scratching the back of his head, everything. They had to learn when it was proper to maintain direct eye contact and when it wasn't. They had to learn when it was proper to extend a hand in a handshake, when it was appropriate to kiss a woman's hand and when it was best to simply bow.

Don't get him started on the bowing. There were head bows, and waist bows and partial bows and full bows. Most of all, they were expected to know the proper occasion for each.

Not even Alexei, who he had expected to be well skilled in all of this had been correct on every occasion. Professor Rousseau had pointed out several instances when he might appear to be insulting someone, not only with an incorrect greeting but his attitude as well.

It seemed Malfoy pretentiousness wasn't proper after all.

"There is a fine line between confident and conceited, Mr. Prince," she had warned Alexei. "Be heedful of which side of that line you stand on."

Homework was a short autobiography. Their names, a bit about their family, their favorite subjects even their aspirations for the future. There were to identify their positive attributes and the things they excelled in as well as those things that needed work and they weren't so good at. Finally they were to state who in their lives made the largest impression upon them, whether positive or negative and how he or she helped shaped their ideals and beliefs.

They would be tested on this Introduction theme during the Lord and Lady feast in the coming weeks. There would be the Royal family and other important citizens of Swansea and that included various races of magical beings that made Swansea their home.

No pressure there.

_STS_

The last class of the afternoon was a double of Transfiguration. Gratefully, they were right on track with the rest of the class. It seemed Professor McGonagall had taught them well. They were given an OWL revision guide for things they would need to be aware of for the Spring exams. A practice exam would be offered just before winter break so they would all know what they needed to pay more attention to and if they were on schedule for the OWLs.

What surprised him and Alexei was the final year project of a write-up on the animagus transformation with extra credit given for anyone who successfully completed the transformation.

Typically that type of transfiguration wasn't taught until NEWT years but the professor had been remarkably relaxed about the whole thing. The entire class was for that matter. He had to wonder what he was missing that everyone else seemed to know.

He and Alexei had looked knowingly at each other. This was project they would definitely strive to complete. It would be bloody useful to be an animagus with a war approaching.

* * *

**_11_**

**_Missing_**

_Classes had ended for the summer and he and his best friend had rushed back to the Citadel excited about the lessons to come. He dragged Tynan to his father's private chambers, their laughter echoing through the hall . This was one of his favorite rooms. Large and decorated in black and blue with high vaulted ceilings and glass windows that stretched the length of the entire wall. The furnishings were heavy and masculine, and their air smelled of sandalwood and leather, scents he would always associate with being cuddled on his Da's lap as a child. Behind them was the royal standard, a noble cobalt and bore the symbol of a Wyvern in flight. _

_Two large doors parted in a section of the wall, making it look like it just folded back. They made a splendid couple his parents, Faelan's dark handsome strength and Imogene's golden beauty. His mother stepped forward enveloping him in a hug, then kissed both of his cheeks, "You've returned!" A smile of welcome spread across her face to include them both, "And you've brought Tynan. My, you've both grown so."_

_His father clasped his arm tightly and nodded once. His mouth curved with tenderness just a moment before he was pulled into a solid hug. "It's good to have you home, Son."_

_"It's good to be back. Thank you for allowing Tynan to join us during training, Da." He only wished he could have captured the look on his best friend's face when he had extended the invitation. It wasn't everyday that a student was invited to be trained under a Lord. They had been the best of friends almost from their first week at Valmont over five years ago and it was only natural to want to include Tynan._

_His mother stepped forward and gave Tynan a hug, thoroughly disconcerting him and then kissed his cheek. "It's wonderful to see you again."_

"_Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Your Excellencies," Tynan bowed respectfully._

_Imogene chuckled, waving away the formality. "Well, you are certainly welcome here in our home." Then she looped an arm through Evan's, leading them through the room. "Your sister is most upset with you, Hagan, though I'm sure you are aware."_

_"I played a small prank on Eamon!" Compared to some of his other pranks, this one was harmless. Eamon had even laughed at finding his bed in the stables with the livestock. To prove the joke had been in good humor, Hagan had restored Eamon's things right away. "Goodness, Mum, he took it better than she did." He hated the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but she covered it well with a smile._

_"Your sister cares for Eamon very much and the betrothal between them means a great deal to her, you know this Hagan. You should be more understanding of her worries."_

_"Eamon is just as excited," he grumbled, not liking the idea of his sister marrying anyone, even if Eamon was nice enough. "She doesn't have to worry about him trying to break the contract."_

"_Just the same, I believe an apology might smooth things over between you. Then we can have a pleasant summer." The look she gave him said he would be seeking forgiveness whether he liked it or not. _

"_Yes, Mum."_

_His father wrapped a sympathetic arm around his shoulder, and squeezed. He understood what it was like being trapped under the weight of offended women. "You should probably see Aricin as well."_

_"Has he been causing a rumpus again?"_

"_Well, you did leave him at home just after Beltane." _

"_He was injured!" He threw up his hands in defeat, knowing that it would have made no difference to the irritant in question._

_There was a loud commotion out in the front yard before he could answer. Men started yelling and then came a loud earsplitting roar. Hagan shook his head. "Silly beast," he muttered and his father burst into laughter._

_"I was trying to tell you," Faelan warned him but didn't bother to hide his amusement._

_"Yes, I know. I should see Aricin." He watched his mother walk over to the window, mentally counted off the seconds before she started laughing at him. "It had not been so long since the last time I was home."_

_"You're the one who insisted on bonding with him. The only reason he remained here at the Citadel was because you ordered him to. Otherwise you know he would have found his way back to Valmont."_

"_And reinjured himself in the process."_

"_He loves you Hagan. They all love you. You'll be a grand Lord when the time comes."_

**_STS_**

The next morning he was grateful he didn't have to crawl out of bed until a more decent hour. The younger Intermediate years had stable and lunch duties on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturdays. So he took advantage of the fact that he was awake earlier than Alexei and indulged in a long soak in the bath to ease some of the aches in his muscles.

His dreams left him unsettled again, filled with unfamiliar faces and things that he felt as though he should know. He expected nightmares of Voldemort. Even comfortable at Grimmauld, he still had the occasional glimpse at Death Eater meetings and murder. Here at Valmont, it was almost like a thick veil had been laid over his connection with Voldemort and though he could still sense the madman, Evan's dreams had been free of him.

Only now he had to contend with dreams about a boy and a life that beckoned sweetly but just out of reach.

The first thing Hermione would do was insist he tell Dumbledore. It wasn't that he didn't trust the great wizard but it didn't necessarily mean the man had answers for everything. Then she would have them knuckled down under research to discover the source of his dreaming phenomenon.

Ron would think the dreams were bizarre and worry they might just be from Voldemort. He would insist that nothing about them could be trusted, no matter the good Evan could feel in them. Evan just couldn't see Voldemort sending him dreams about a boy who had a family who clearly loved him. The images he was more likely to see would involve torture and death.

He had written about the first dream in a letter to Remus because if there was something Dark or unnatural about it, then Remus would likely know about it. It was too bad the man wouldn't actually be able to read the thing until he returned home at the end of the year.

"Morning."

Thirty minutes had passed when Evan glanced up to see a sleep rumpled Alexei enter the bathroom. He looked even worse than Evan had felt when he woke up this morning. "Good morning." He said quietly. "Are you looking to take a bath as well? I'm about done here. "

Alexei stopped just in front of the sinks, frown still in place but seemed to be considering the question. "I think I'll just take a hot shower instead. That might help with the strain in my back," he decided. After grabbing some bottles from his cabinet, he turned on the shower, stripped and then stepped under the spray. Less than two minutes later, the steam began filling the room, proving his shower was probably scalding rather than a mere hot.

"What do you think of Perks being here?"

At first he didn't think Alexei heard him but then the other grunted and replied, "It's probably just a coincidence. While I'm certain the Headmaster was aware of her presence here, she wasn't at school long enough to be much of a threat to our secret."

"So you don't believe she will say anything?"

"We'll discover that soon enough," was all Alexei would concede to. "It was rather strange how she disappeared right after our second year. She was a Gryffindor, right? Did anyone know why she didn't return?"

"Not really," he sighed and started to climb from the cooling water. "I'm a little ashamed to admit that we kind of forgot about her that year."

"It isn't surprising. There were Chambers of Secrets opening and Heirs of Slytherin attacking students after all. Besides, she didn't make much of an impression on me either."

"And you're not just saying that because she was a Gryffindor?"

"Evan," Alexei paused, "Lucius was very strict in teaching me about accumulating allies and connections. I may have been an annoying prat at eleven and twelve but that didn't mean I was incapable of noting the qualities of students who could benefit me in the future. Sally-Anne Perks at eleven wasn't worth noting."

"When you make statements like that, I remember why I didn't much like you," Evan pointed out.

"Yes, well, I'm finding that not all of Lucius' teachings are worth holding on to."

They were dressed in fitted dark gray tunics and breeches for class when they went down for breakfast. They joined the table with the other boys of their year for breakfast. The girls were chattering away at the other table but managed to give them a wave in greeting. Sally-Anne's wasn't as easy. She had given both him and Alexei a wide berth since that first night. Alexei would eventually force a confrontation to see where she stood. He preferred to just leave her alone for the time being. No one had said anything and he didn't want to antagonize her and cause her to reveal something if she hadn't.

"You're looking pretty good for your second day, Prince," Llewellyn was a snide and Evan was starting to wonder if he would be a problem. Alexei just gave him one of those long dark looks that Evan could remember Snape giving someone he thought was an idiot. Perhaps that was a Slytherin thing.

"A simple muscle relaxant scrub does wonders. I'm sure you've heard of them. Besides, the work wasn't that strenuous," Alexei told him but not before cutting blue eyes at him to ensure Evan didn't reveal that Alexei had looked just as bad as Llewellyn implied when he woke up that morning.

"Which physical component did you choose, Evan?"

"Swordsmanship," he told Owen, who was still holding a spoon of porridge in the air as he waited for a response. "What about you?"

"I'm in Riding. Valerian is the only other who decided to take Swordsmanship. Ellis and Steffon are in Archery."

"What about the girls?"

"Quanna's in riding."

"Of course," was echoed by the other three boys at the table. Evan merely smiled; he recalled how they all had teased the girl who loved riding.

"Marisol and Rhosyn chose Archery as well."

"And Sally-Anne, she's in Swordsmanship?"

"Quite alarming with her daggers she is too," Valerian said, giving a visible shudder. "Imagine a lithe thing like her being so vicious."

"Don't tell me you're truly frightened of a little slip of a witch, Fournier," Alexei drawled, clearly amused at the other's discomfort.

"We each excel at our chosen talents. I'm deft with a rapier; she's deadly with her dual Tonfa blades."

The three of them made their way over to the hall where class would be held as the others went to their own classes. They would all meet up again for a double of Defense Against the Dark Arts right before lunch. He and Alexei wouldn't join the regular Ancient Runes class until after the Winter break.

They weren't the only students with Swordsmanship this hour, Evan noted as he glanced around the room to each group that had already arrived and were talking amongst themselves. "I should go introduce myself to the Professor."

"Come join us before the warm-up," Valerian told him before following Sally-Anne who was making her way to a spot just in front of an open window.

Evan found his eyes drawn to Sally-Anne for one of the numerous times this morning. She slipped out of the dark brown Haori styled jacket she wore over her clothes, folded it neatly, and set it on a bench. He had never seen anything like her bodysuit. A flare of heat rushed across his cheeks as he realized he was staring a little to closely at how the burgundy material hugged tightly across her body before ending in a slight flare in the legs over her dark brown ankle high moccasins.

She wasn't as slim as Alexei had intimated, her arms and legs had definite muscle tone. He looked away as she started braiding her high ponytail, feeling guilty. Almost immediately his eyes found the Professor he was searching for and quick strides took him to that direction, pushing any unsuitable thoughts out of his mind.

"Good morning. You must be my new student, Mr. Hawthorne. I'm Professor Raul Bazán."

Professor Bazan looked like man who was extremely competent in his chosen field. Tall, with an athletic physique and a quiet grace, the dark skinned man quickly put him at ease despite the strong hand shake.

"Come. We have a few minutes before class begins. We can discuss what type of weapon you would like to claim."

Evan's mind went right to something similar to the Sword of Gryffindor, as he followed the Professor into a heavily warded room where all kinds of weapons lined the walls and lay on top of tables. He took his time exploring the area that smelled of oil, metal and leather. The Professor waited patiently for him to reach a decision.

"I notice you're looking at the arming swords. You have some experience with them?"

There was one on the wall that was almost an exact replica of the ruby encrusted sword he had used to kill the basilisk. "Yes. No, not really," he amended not wanting the Professor to believe he was more capable than he truly was.

"Overall, it's a very versatile weapon, capable of both cutting and thrusting combat. It boasts excellent balance for a short sword. You have good instincts."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's a good choice for someone who wishes to duel with both sword and wand." Evan knew he wasn't very tall and was also aware his strengths were found in his good hand to eye coordination and swift reflexes. "I'd suggest learning to work with an arming dagger as well to compliment the style."

Evan reached up to grasp the sword that had caught his eye but the Professor laughed and stopped him. "Not so fast, Mr. Hawthorne. We have a long way to go before you're ready for that point. Now that we've agreed upon the style you'll be learning, we take a couple of steps back to the basics."

That made sense, though he was anxious to get started on the real stuff. "Where do we begin?"

They went back to the main room over to a desk that sat in the corner where the Professor gave him three different scrolls. "For the first six weeks you'll be working on basic skills. Class begins essentially the same: a combined warm-up, followed by guard skills, turning skills, footwork combination skills and of course falling skills. When you're proficient, we'll move on to some unarmed pairing exercises, then dagger skills and eventually armed pairing exercises."

"How long do you think it will take to get to the armed pairing exercises?"

"Honestly, if you're dedicated and work hard, and join the dueling club, you would be ready for armed pairing exercises in the early Spring."

Devastated didn't even begin to describe his disappointment. He knew it wasn't to be easy but he wouldn't be handling a sword until Spring at the earliest.

"You have to remember Mr. Hawthorne, inexperience in this instance is a great hindrance. The students your age and older have been working since age eleven and even younger in some cases. They've had years to develop the muscle memory necessary for armed dueling."

And he was basically taking a crash course that he wouldn't see through to fruition because he would return home next year. "I understand."

"Don't sound so glum, I'm sure you'll progress quickly. Your classmates are a good resource to take advantage of and again, join the dueling club. You'll appreciate the results."


End file.
